


live our lives together day by day

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [10]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 17:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: “Today was a good day,” Waverly says quietly.Nicole snorts. “We didn’t do anything.”Waverly looks up at her, her eyes dark in the kitchen lightning. “Those are my favorite days, though.”





	live our lives together day by day

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes:
> 
> (a) This oneshot, that we affectionately call "Ordinary Day" amongst ourselves, was inspired by this tweet: http://piratekane.tumblr.com/post/166263877036
> 
> (b) Thanks to @heathermgirls for her fantastic Styx headcanon; I hope you don't mind that I took it and ran with it.
> 
> (c) This week features grocery shopping, laundry, and everything 18-year-old Nicole never thought she would have. It takes place in spring of 1996.

**“Love of a Lifetime" FireHouse, 1990  
** _ I finally found the love of a lifetime, a love to last my whole life through. I finally found the love of a lifetime. Forever in my heart, I finally found the love of a lifetime _

The alarm clock comes on slowly, filtering through the sleepy daze of the morning. She can hear the neighbor a few doors down mowing his lawn, a dog barking across the street, and some college student breathing heavily into his microphone in a booth somewhere on the University of Lethbridge campus. 

Nicole fumbles for the snooze button on her ‘79 Spartus Alarm Clock Radio and silences the alarm on her Casio  DW-6500. She turns the volume dial down, softening the sound of “1979” by The Smashing Pumpkins. She pushes her hair out of her eyes, rubbing the sleep away.

“I thought we were sleeping in,” Waverly grumbles as she turns over onto her side. She grabs for Nicole’s arm and pulls it back over her stomach. Nicole’s fingers graze the soft skin above Waverly’s sleep shorts. Waverly shivers and presses closer to Nicole, the length of her body fitting against Nicole’s.

Nicole pulls her free arm enough to squint at the small digital face of her watch. “It  _ is _ late.”

“ _ Waverly-late _ . Not  _ Nicole-late _ ,” Waverly argues. She lifts her head and squints into the sunlight coming from the window in their bedroom. “God, what  _ is _ that?”

“The sun,” Nicole says, running her hand up Waverly’s back over the thin cotton of her shirt. She thumbs every notch in her spine, over the cracked ‘Rush Power Windows ‘85 - ‘86 Tour’ lettering, and up to the fraying collar. 

Waverly’s skin is bed-warm and her face softens when Nicole rubs at the base of her neck. “That’s nice,” she breathes out. “Can you… A little lower?”

Nicole digs her fingers in more purposefully, pressing at a knot she feel just above Waverly’s shoulder blade. “You need to stop hunching over those books,” she murmurs. “Or at least start taking some breaks.”

Waverly shushes her. “Too early for a lecture.”

Nicole laughs and leans in, kissing a spot behind Waverly’s ear. Waverly sighs softly, shifting closer and angling her head back. “You like that?”

Waverly hums in agreement. She twists onto her front, burying her face in Nicole’s shoulder. “Don’t stop.”

Nicole pushes up a little, holding her weight on one arm. She digs in harder, kneading across Waverly’s shoulders and down the muscle between her spine and shoulder blade. Waverly groans, her body rolling slowly as Nicole slides knotted muscle fibers up and out of Waverly’s shoulders and back. Her hand starts to ache after a minute and she pulls back on the pressure, rubbing small circles until she slowly stills her hand. She presses a kiss to the back of Waverly’s head.

Waverly groans and lifts her head. “You stopped.”

“You’re, like, the smartest,” Nicole teases.

Waverly ignores her and rolls onto her back, tucking her head into the flat part where Nicole’s arm meets her torso, resting her head on Nicole’s shoulder. Nicole’s Poison t-shirt twists tight around her bicep. Waverly trails a finger along the underside of Nicole’s chin. “What are we doing today?” She replaces her finger with her lips, whispering kisses against Nicole’s throat.

Nicole’s eyes flutter for a moment. “Uh,” she starts, trying to remember what they talked about last night. Waverly’s tongue darts out and across her pulse point. Nicole shivers. She leans back a little, trying to clear her head by putting some space between them. “It’s Saturday.”

Waverly follows her, eliminating the space between them. She breathes warm air against Nicole’s skin. “Did your fancy watch tell you that?”

Nicole snakes a hand down Waverly’s side and pinches her hip gently. Waverly yelps, her body bucking up.

“No fair,” Waverly pouts, rolling away. She throws her hands up, tapping the headboard to the Gin Blossom’s “Follow You Down” on the radio. Her hair fans out across their pillows, the sun weaving through the loose strands. Nicole traces the sunbeams with the tip of her finger, up over Waverly’s scalp, then down Waverly’s forehead and between her eyes. “Don’t,” Waverly breathes out.

Nicole smirks. “Why not?”

“You’ll put me to sleep,” Waverly whines, her eyes already fluttering closed. She turns her head and noses at Nicole’s bare arm. 

“Oh, really?”

Waverly’s nose crinkles. “Yes,” she drags out.

Nicole rolls, slipping one leg between Waverly’s, her elbows on either side of Waverly’s head, careful of her hair. She bumps Waverly’s nose with her own, smiling wide. 

Waverly blinks slowly. “Well, now I’m awake.”

“Good,” Nicole breathes out. She kisses the corner of Waverly’s mouth, twice, and then her cheek. “Because we have a  _ lot _ of housework to do today.”

Waverly groans and pushes halfheartedly at Nicole’s arms. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

“How much I love you is up for debate,” Waverly says. She lets her hands rest on Nicole’s hips, slipping her thumbs under Nicole’s shirt.

“Enough to kiss me before brushing your teeth?” Nicole asks, her mouth hovering over Waverly’s.

Waverly snorts. “Not even close.” Her hands slide higher, along Nicole’s ribcage and back, just below her shoulder blades. She flexes her hands, her fingertips butterflying against the soft skin of Nicole’s breasts, and Nicole drops an inch, the space between them gone.

Nicole exhales sharply. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Waverly whispers back.

“You’re didn’t volunteer to help out at The Patch tonight.”

Waverly shakes her head, her nose brushing against Nicole’s as she does. “Nope. Just you and me tonight.”

Nicole nods. “Let’s stay in, huh? We can make that turkey chili you wanted to try. The one Emeril made on his show.”

Waverly thinks about it. “We don’t have any turkey,” she says after a minute.

Nicole shrugs. “We can go get it. We need more dog food.”

Somewhere below them, Styx hears the word  _ food _ and whimpers.

Nicole snorts and drops her head into the hollow of Waverly’s neck, breathing in the sweet smell of her shampoo and the lotion she uses before bed. Waverly laughs, bright and loud in her ear, and pushes at Nicole’s hips until she rolls over and onto her back. Waverly sits up, her hair long and in Nicole’s face. She leans across Nicole and over the side of the bed, grinning still.

“Are you hungry, boy?” she asks.

Styx looks up through his lashes, his brown eyes wide. He’s sleeping on his dog bed, right beside Nicole’s nightstand, one paw hooked around his favorite stuffed animal, and his head resting on its stomach. His ears perk up at Waverly’s voice and he inches forward on his belly as she leans down towards him. 

Waverly shifts and Nicole winces, Waverly’s hand pressing uncomfortably on her bladder.

“He’s probably not hungry,” Nicole groans, shimmying to get out from underneath Waverly. She finally frees herself, sitting up against the headboard. “He’s probably just waiting for you to let him up onto the bed.”

Waverly looks back over her shoulder at Nicole. “ _ Me _ ? Who let him sleep in bed every night I wasn’t here?”

“In my defense,” Nicole starts.

Waverly snorts. “In your defense. Don’t be such a hoser.”

Nicole collects Waverly’s hair in her hand, parsing it out into three sections. Waverly lays flat on her stomach again, her feet dangling off one end of the bed, her arms hanging off the other. “No one says that anymore,” Nicole hums. She weaves Waverly’s hair into a simple french braid, loose and untied at the end.

“It doesn’t change the fact that you let him sleep in your bed all the time,” Waverly says.

Nicole shrugs. “He never hogged the covers.”

“He never-” Waverly pushes up onto her knees and leans over Nicole, her mouth set in a firm line. Her eyes are bright, though, and when she leans in, Nicole stays perfectly still. “I don’t hog the covers,” Waverly insists.

Nicole makes a small noise of protest. “You have  _ always _ hogged the covers, Waverly Earp. You’ve always taken  _ everything  _ of mine.”

Waverly’s eyes soften and she looks down, working her bottom lip between her teeth. She rests a soft hand over Nicole’s chest. “Including this?”

Nicole feels her breath catch and her cheeks flush. It’s been seven years since their first kiss, but Waverly has had her heart for nearly twice as long as that. She presses her hand down over Waverly’s, lacing their fingers together. “Yeah,” she breathes out. “Definitely that.”

Waverly shifts in her lap, her knees sliding down over Nicole’s hips, settling her weight low against Nicole’s stomach.

Nicole hisses. “Babe, move.”

Waverly slides back, sitting on Nicole’s thighs. “What? What’s wrong?”

Nicole can see Styx sit up at attention, his ears and snout high. Waverly’s hands run up her bare arms, into her hair, down to the base of her neck, tilting her head back. 

“I have to pee,” Nicole says, grinding her back teeth together. 

Waverly barks out a laugh and slides off her legs, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Go.” She pulls her feet up, resting her chin on her knees. “But don’t get in the shower, because I want to brush my teeth sometime before the end of the millennium.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “I’m going to take Mr. Roboto out to the park.” She presses a quick kiss to Waverly’s forehead, and moves off the bed, stopping to scratch behind Styx’s ears for a moment. He turns to follow her but Waverly says his name firmly and he stays put. 

She pauses in the doorway that connects their bedroom and the bathroom, leaning into the doorjamb. Waverly is sitting on the edge of their bed, giggling as Styx licks her hand and her knees. Waverly snaps her fingers and Styx instantly stills, looking for his next command. 

Twelve-year-old Nicole can’t believe she has her own apartment, with her own cassette collection, and only two Waverly-original bedazzled jean jackets laying around. Fourteen-year-old Nicole still can’t believe this is real life, that Waverly Earp is in her old Rush tour shirt and a pair of underwear, laughing as their dog chases his tail around exactly 3 times before he sits tall, ready for his treat. Sixteen-year-old Nicole can’t believe she gets to mow the lawn and stop for kisses. Eighteen-year-old Nicole, standing on the McCreadys’ lawn with a boombox in her hands, can’t believe that there’s two toothbrushes in the holder on their small vanity sink - a blue one for Nicole and a purple-glitter one for Waverly - and two sets of slippers in the living room, and polaroids hanging all over the fridge they picked out together.

She goes to the bathroom, and then brushes her teeth. She takes her bra off the hook on the back of the bathroom door and pulls it on, grabbing a clean white shirt out of the top drawer of her dresser. Waverly is leaning against the counter in the kitchen, thumbing through her teaching planner, a pen already pushed through her braid. The radio on the counter is on, playing Firehouse softly.

“Here you go,” Waverly says, handing Nicole her jeans without looking up.

Nicole slips them on, resting each foot on one of their kitchen chairs to roll her cuffs up. She plants both feet on the floor and looks down, nodding in satisfaction when they come together evenly. She glances up, but Waverly is scribbling something on one of the pages of her planner. Nicole smiles softly and stops in front of her, resting a hand on Waverly’s waist. She presses a finger to the bottom of Waverly’s chin, tipping her head back until their eyes meet. 

“Be back,” she murmurs as she leans in, kissing Waverly softly.

“Minty,” Waverly breathes out against her mouth. “Coffee’ll be done by the time you get home.”

Nicole smiles crookedly. “Home.”

Waverly pushes at her gently, softening the motion with a smile. Nicole stumbles back a few steps, turning on her socked foot just as she reaches the threshold to the living room. 

Styx is sitting by the door, his leash in his mouth.

“Okay, boy,” she says. She pulls on her Chippewa boots and laces them tightly before she takes the leash out of his mouth and clips it to his collar, looping the end of it around her wrist. The last thing she sees when she pulls the apartment door shut behind her is Waverly twirling a pen in one hand, the other turning on the faucet to fill the coffee carafe. 

They take the back stairs out of the building, nodding a good morning to Ms. Ruthie, their next door neighbor. Styx stops for his routine head scratch.

“Lawn is looking a little long, Ms. Ruthie,” Nicole says, leaning against the picket fence.

Ms. Ruthie tucks her hands into her sweater pockets and nods. “Those boys keep telling me they’re coming by, but they just haven’t yet.”

Nicole nods. Styx licks her hand and she absently rubs his ear. “Well, why don’t I come by tomorrow and trim it down?”

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to do that,” Ms. Ruthie starts to protest.

Nicole waves her off. “Waverly has been talking about picking your brain on what you know about Purgatory’s history.”

Ms. Ruthie narrows her eyes. “Because I’m old?”

Nicole snorts. “Because you run Purgatory’s Historical Society.”

Ms. Ruthie grins. “I know that, girl.” She looks at Styx. “I suppose you want your treat, don’t you?” She pulls a small bone out of her pocket and holds it out above Styx. He stills instantly, eyes locked on Ms. Ruthie’s. She nods sharply, drops the treat in front of him, and says “eat” in a firm voice. She looks up proudly when Styx picks the bone up off the ground. “How’d I do?”

“Perfect,” Nicole says. She lets Sytx finish his bone and smiles at Ms. Ruthie. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll make lemon cake,” Ms. Ruthie offers.

Nicole grins. Ms. Ruthie’s lemon cakes are her favorite.

It’s April, and the mornings are still cool. For a second, Nicole almost wishes she had her jacket with her, but Styx is moving ahead of her at a brisk pace. She’ll warm up soon.

It’s the same start to their route every morning. On Saturdays, they go a little further without the threat of being late for work looming over them. Saturdays are for their long loop: down their street towards Main, stop in at The Patch to say hi to Gus, along Rt. 81, and through the woods past their old secret hideout that puts her just a street over from their apartment.

They get to Main Street easily enough, stopping every so often so Styx can relieve himself. Nicole ducks down the small alley a few buildings up from The Patch and loosens her grip on Styx’s leash. He gets ahead of her, sitting at the back door of the The Patch. He lifts a paw and bats the screen hard enough that it rattles in the frame. A few seconds go by before Gus pokes her head out of the door and grins. 

“I was wondering if you were coming by,” she says warmly.

Nicole clears her throat.

Gus looks up. “I know you’re here, too. I didn’t think he walked himself here.” Her eyes soften again as she kneels down and rubs down his front legs. “Though he’s smart enough to.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “We get it, he’s the favorite. Does Waverly know?”

Gus stands up, crossing her arms over her chest. “You think you’re clever, but you’re not all that-”

Wynonna pops her head out around the back door. “What’re you-  _ Oh _ . Hey, buddy.” She drops to one knee, a piece of bacon in her hand. “Want some pig skin?”

“Wynonna,” Nicole groans. “You can’t just feed him bacon all the time.”

Wynonna grins. “Watch me.”

Nicole sighs. “At least make him-”

Wynonna throws the bacon into the air and Styx snatches it just before it hits the steps. “Make him what?” she asks, her eyes sparkling.

Nicole shakes her head. “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re even the-”

“Hey, boss?” Valdez asks as she pokes her head around the door. 

Wynonna looks up. “Yeah?”

Valdez gives her an apologetic smile. “Can you come take a look at the jukebox? It’s doing that weird thing where it plays ‘What’s New, Pussycat?’ on repeat.”

Wynonna clenches her hand into a fist. “Goddamn Carl Junger,” she growls. She points a finger at Valdez. “Come on, Muscle. Let’s go dump a couple of ‘shakes.” She catches Gus’s eye and grins widely. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I’m going to just unplug the machine and plug it back in. And  _ then _ , I’ll dump a shake on his head,” she adds in a low voice.

Valdez leans against the doorjamb, giving Nicole a smile. “Hey, Haught.”

“Valdez.”

“Styx.”

“Gus,” Gus adds, pointing at herself. “Now that we got introductions out of the way, how about we all get back to what we were doing. Bobo called out and I’m stuck running the flat top.” She brushes her fingers through Styx’s thick fur as Valdez nods sharply and heads back inside. “Are you dropping him off?”

“Just out for our walk. Tuesday, though?”

Gus nods quickly. “Of course. I might head to the city, but he can ride along.”

“Sure. He loves that truck,” Nicole says, looking back at the truck parked by the dumpster. It’s still as pretty as it was when Curtis was the one driving it.

“Dinner tomorrow night?” 

“I’ll ask Waverly,” Nicole says. She looks down. “Styx, walk,” she says firmly. Styx immediately turns and follows her down the steps. She gives Gus one last wave and clicks her tongue sharply, Styx turning left and down the alley again.

They go past the front windows of The Patch. Valdez is waiting on a table near the jukebox. Wynonna is behind the counter, filling a soda glass with one hand while she picks through an accounting ledger with the other, a pair of Gus’s reading glasses pushed up to keep her hair back and out of her eyes. For a second, Nicole thinks about high school-Wynonna, cutting class to make out with Doc, and how she would have slashed the tires on the the ‘95 Honda Accord that 24-year-old-Wynonna drives. Styx tugs gently, reminding her to keep walking. 

They keep walking down Main Street - past the Post Office and Shorty’s and Mattie’s. She pokes her head into Mattie’s, shouts a hello, and keeps moving. They go down Rt. 81 and turn left at the end of the road, cutting down the trailhead and into the woods. Nicole unclips Styx’s leash from his collar, tucking the woven rope into the back pocket of her jeans. She picks up the nearest stick, breaking it into two. She hurls one piece forward, telling Styx to ‘ _ go _ ’. 

He hurtles forward, bounding through the dirt and leftover dead leaves, digging into a pile of them for the stick. He sits and waits for Nicole to catch up to him, immediately dropping the stick at her feet when she reaches him. She picks it up and throws it ahead. It goes like this the entire mile through the winding trail: throw and chase and drop and throw again. When they get to the edge of the woods, and Nicole can see houses and garages and stop signs, she calls for Styx to sit and wait. She clips his leash back on and steps out of the woods onto the street.

Someone has their garage open across the street, 107.3 CFGQ blasting from a large speaker jerry-rigged to the top of a John Deere parked in the driveway. She hears the opening notes of “Kids in America” and someone inside the garage starts singing off-key.

“Oh my God, this song is brutal,” someone else says.

“You used to love this song,” a deeper voice answers. “We used to sing it in the car.”

Nicole stops on the curb, Styx immediately at her side. She scans the street. It’s all the same: little pink houses, with happy families banging around inside their garages early on a Saturday morning. She smiles.

She checks her watch and whistles under her breath. “Come on, bud. We gotta hustle.”

They’re just a street over, and it doesn’t take long to get home. Nicole waves at Ms. Ruthie again and lets Styx go ahead of her up the stairs. She unclips his leash as she twists the door handle, and he bounds over the threshold as soon as the door is cracked open, his nails scratching against the tiled kitchen floor as he runs to Waverly. Nicole peels off her boots, leaving them by the door.

Nicole can hear Meatloaf’s “I Would Do Anything For Love” playing on the radio in the kitchen.

“Hey, boy,” Waverly says sweetly. She drops to one knee, scratching behind Styx’s ears and down his body. “Were you a good boy? Did Wynonna give you bacon?”

Nicole leans against the doorway, her hands in her pockets. “How did you know that?”

Waverly looks up, still smiling. “She called to tell me that Styx is the new favorite and I’ve been knocked down to number two.”

Nicole laughs.

“No, really,” Waverly continues. “That was all she said, and then she hung up.” Waverly pushes back up, using the counter as leverage, and slips a finger into Nicole’s pocket, tugging her forward. “I made breakfast.”

“I see that,” Nicole says, looking at the sink. All of the pans they own are piled into the basin, still steaming with heat. The table is covered in Waverly’s attempts at a big breakfast: eggs and potatoes and some bacon. There’s a stack of toast neither one of them will eat through next to two cups of coffee and glasses of orange juice. “Is someone coming over to help us eat all of this?” She loops her arms low around Waverly’s waist, their hips fitting together. She lets her hand drop to Waverly’s bare leg; she’s still in her sleep shirt, the one that hangs just at mid-thigh. 

Waverly flushes a soft pink. “I woke up hungry.”

Nicole kisses Waverly, lingering against her mouth for a minute before she pulls away. She leans back, running her tongue over her bottom lip. “You had coffee.”

Waverly shrugs and reaches for one of the mugs on the table, still in Nicole’s arms. “You were gone a while.” She hands the mug to Nicole and leans in for one more kiss before she slips away. She sits down on one of their kitchen chairs, a find at the small thrift shop in the city. “Here,” she says, sliding a plate towards Nicole. Waverly pulls her feet up under her body, propping her own coffee mug, the one with a tomato on it, on her knees. 

Nicole fills her plate and cuts into her eggs, letting the yolk run. She pulls one piece of toast off the pile, rips it in half, and mops it across her plate, shoving the whole thing into her mouth.

Waverly rolls her eyes and pointedly uses her fork, spearing a piece of egg white and popping it into her mouth.

“What’re we doing today?”

Waverly shrugs. “What do you want to do?”

Nicole frowns, taking a sip of her coffee to wash down the yolk coating her throat. “Up to you,” she says as she swallows.

Waverly frowns, her fork suspended between her plate and her mouth. “You said you were going to come up with what we were doing today.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” Waverly puts down her coffee cup.

“No,” Nicole says slowly. “I said let’s stay in.”

Waverly sighs. “I assumed that meant you had an idea of what we were doing today.”

“You know what happens when you assume, right? You make an-” Nicole snaps her mouth closed when Waverly glares at her. “I didn’t have any ideas besides making turkey chili.”

“Fine.”

Nicole takes a bite of bacon slowly. “Fine,” she echoes.

Waverly pushes eggs whites around her plate. “Fine,” she repeats.

Nicole reaches her leg forward, hooking it around Waverly’s chair. She curls her foot and grits her teeth, tugging the chair forward with her leg muscles until Waverly is closer, hiding a smile behind her hair. Styx whines softly under the table and rolls over. Nicole presses a single kiss to Waverly’s cheek. “Hey, I know what we’re going to do today?  _ Housework _ ,” she breathes out.

Waverly leans into her, letting her head fall into the soft space between Nicole’s neck and shoulder. “Oh, yeah?”

Nicole lifts her coffee cup higher, careful of Waverly’s face. “Yeah. I’m out of clean socks and-”

“Is that what smells?” Waverly interrupts, wrinkling her nose.

Nicole snakes her free hand down to the back of Waverly’s thigh, scratching lightly enough that Waverly bucks, ticklish in that spot.

“Hey,” Waverly protests, swatting gently at Nicole’s hand. “Okay, okay.”

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Nicole says pointedly. “I’m out of clean socks and all these dishes need to get done.” She looks at the sink and the pans piled high. “And we could probably vacuum?”

Waverly sighs and noses a line up Nicole’s neck, stretching to press a kiss to the underside of her chin. “Okay. And I have some planning to do for this week.”

Nicole’s eyes flutter closed. She can feel Waverly’s hand sliding up and over her knee. “Me, too,” she breathes out as Waverly’s hand goes higher. “Wanna make Hayley a mixtape.”

Waverly snorts, the hot air blowing against the sensitive skin of Nicole’s neck. “She hasn’t even been born yet.”

Nicole shrugs, Waverly’s head rising and falling with the motion. “It’s never too early to start educating the heart.”

Waverly laughs as she sits back up, reaching for a piece of toast. “Where did you read that?”

“Curtis told me that.”

Waverly stops chewing, her eyes instantly softening. “Oh,” she breathes out.

“The first time Curtis took Wynonna and me to Mattie’s, right after she opened The Forge,” Nicole explains. “Jordan Roberts was there, with his dad. Jordan was… young. Younger than us, at least. I asked why he could be inside the shop, he was so young. And Curtis…” Nicole shrugs. “He told me it was never too early to start educating the heart. I think he meant ‘ears’ but, you know.”

“He told me that once, too,” Waverly says softly. “He gave me Joan Jett’s  _ Bad Reputation _ cassette after that whole thing with Tucker. I gave it back to him and told him I was too young to listen to songs with swear words.”

Nicole shakes her head, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “ _ What _ swears?”

Waverly narrows her eyes. “She says ‘damn’ a hundred times in ‘Bad Reputation’.”

Nicole laughs out loud. 

“And ‘Do You Want To Touch Me’ is not a song a seven-year-old should be listening to!” Waverly defends.

Nicole keeps laughing, through a bite of egg and a sip of coffee. She laughs until Waverly huffs heavily and reaches out to clamp a hand down over Nicole’s mouth. Nicole licks Waverly’s hand.

“ _ Ew _ ,” Waverly shouts.

Styx lifts his head where he’s lying at Waverly’s feet. Waverly immediately reaches down and scratches behind his ears, and he settles, his snout buried into his paws.

“You’re disgusting,” Waverly grumbles.

Nicole smiles widely.

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Waverly continues. “I told him I was too young, and that Gus would be mad, and he just shrugged it off and told me that no one was ever too young to educate their hearts.”

“Curtis,” Nicole says softly.

“He also hid that tape the next time Gus cleaned my room.” Waverly’s head tips to the side thoughtfully, her eyes wet. “He never did give it back.”

Nicole reaches across the table and covers Waverly’s hand, a piece of toast between their fingers. “I’m sure it’s still in one of those boxes up in the attic.”

Waverly nods, her eyes still clouded over. “Probably.”

They’re both quiet for a minute, the memory of Curtis settling over them.

“I can put ‘Bad Reputation’ on today’s cassette,” Nicole finally says. Waverly’s blinks a few times, wrinkling her nose in confusion. “The tape I’m making. For Hayley,” Nicole clarifies.

Waverly shakes her head and slips her hand out from under Nicole’s, taking a bite of toast. “You can,” she agrees.

“I was going to do  _ The Best of 1987 _ today, but maybe I can do  _ Girl Power _ instead,” Nicole continues, her head already building a playlist.

She can do a cassette and name it  _ Girl Power _ . She’ll use Joan Jett and Madonna and Bonnie Tyler. Waverly has some Whitney Houston tapes somewhere, Nicole knows. She can add Tina Turner, Diana Ross, and Pat Benatar, too. 

“You can use-” Waverly stops speaking, shaking her head.

“Use what?” Nicole asks excitedly, mind racing with the possibilities. Waverly listens to way more female singers than she does; she probably has some good ideas.

Waverly stares at her for a moment before she speaks. “Use a Compact Disc,” she finishes.

Nicole pushes back from the table, the legs of her chair scraping against the linoleum.

“Okay,” Waverly says quickly. 

“A compact disc,” Nicole repeats.

“That was a bad idea.”

“A  _ compact disc _ ,” Nicole says again, louder.

Waverly sighs and throws her arms up in the air. “Well, now you’re just being dramatic.”

Nicole ignores her, standing up. “A compact disc,” she says a third time. She stalks out of the kitchen and into the living room, pulling open the living room closet door. “Do you see a  _ single _ compact disc here?” she yells towards the kitchen.

Waverly doesn’t answer her.

Nicole can hear the sound of a fork scraping food off a plate, and the soft twinkle of Styx’s tags hitting the edge of his food bowl as he eats the scraps Waverly gives him. She turns her attention back to the inside of the closet, to the custom-made shelving units Nathan helped her put up when they moved in, so she had somewhere to store her tapes. The morning light coming through the living room light hits the plastic cases just enough to make them sparkle. She smiles widely.

“Any other girl would be jealous,” Waverly says from behind her.

Nicole reaches out and runs a finger down the spine of her Def Leppard  _ Hysteria _ cassette. “You’re not any other girl, Waverly Earp.”

A small, warm hand slides around her waist, hooking a thumb through Nicole’s front belt loop. Nicole can feel Waverly’s chin, sharp against her shoulder blade. “I can’t even make fun of you when you’re being sweet.”

Nicole turns slowly, letting Waverly untangle her fingers from Nicole’s waist. She brushes Waverly’s hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ears. “That’s on purpose.”

“I know,” Waverly murmurs, her eyes fluttering. “You know what else is on purpose?”

Nicole’s hands skate down Waverly’s neck slowly. “What?” she asks, her voice rough. 

“All those dishes I left in the sink,” Waverly breathes out.

Nicole drops her hands quickly, pouting.

Waverly opens one eye and grins widely before opening the other. “Thank you, baby,” she says, stretching up on her tiptoes and pressing a hard kiss to Nicole’s cheek before she loses her balance, swaying for a second before landing back down on her heels. “Oh, will you grab the laundry before you start dishes?”

“So you want me to-”

“We’ll do it together,” Waverly assures her. “You get the laundry from the laundry room, okay? I’ll grab all the dirty laundry and we can sort it. Then I’ll fold if you do the dishes.”

Nicole hates dishes. Years ago, when she ride over to The Patch after school, she would sit at the counter and tell Gus she could  _ totally _ help, whenever Gus wanted. Thirteen-year-old Nicole had tried to tell herself that it had nothing to do with the way Waverly would get excited every time they both got to help out. Except that Gus had taken her seriously, and whenever someone would call out at The Patch, Nicole was assigned dishes so that Stevie, the regular guy, could help out behind the line. Plates would come back covered in ketchup and syrup, pieces of half-chewed french toast and burger everywhere. Waverly was nicer about it, but the other waitresses would drop them into the wash basin without warning, splashing dirty, reddened water up at Nicole. Even the cooks would drop plates and gravy bowls down without warning or apology. Nicole would have to reach into the scalding water and fish the plates back out so she could rinse them off before loading them into the rack. 

Nicole still shudders every time Waverly forgets to rinse off a plate before putting it into the dirty side of the sink, the fear of sticking her hand in smeared, used ketchup too overwhelming for words. 

“Waves,” Nicole starts.

Waverly presses a single finger to Nicole’s mouth, stopping her from speaking. “Please?” She looks up at Nicole through her eyelashes and runs her free hand along Nicole’s hip. “Just this once?”

“That’s what you said last time,” Nicole mutters. She sighs anyway. “Fine.”

Waverly claps her hands together, the noise loud in Nicole’s ear. “I’m going to get the dirty stuff from the bathroom and the bedroom.” She twists out of Nicole’s arms and takes a few steps towards their room, before she turns back and leans up, crooking a finger at Nicole.

“What?”

“Come here,” Waverly insists.

Nicole huffs and comes closer. Waverly pushes up on her tiptoes, catching Nicole’s bottom lip awkwardly.

“You’re off the hook,” Waverly murmurs.

“You’re clutch,” Nicole counters.

Waverly narrows her eyes. “You’re making fun of me.”

Nicole presses her hand against her chest, letting her mouth drop open. “How rude.” She takes a few steps back towards the apartment door. 

Waverly flicks her wrists at Nicole, her hands in the shape of finger guns. She clicks her tongue twice, winking as she fires at Nicole. “You got it, dude.”

Nicole rolls her eyes, and twists on her heel. She goes out of their apartment and down the back stairs, through the door to the old washer and dryer on cinderblocks in the corner of the dirt-floor basement. She swallows against the fear of walking through a spiderweb and takes sharp, measured steps to the dryer. They left their basket down here. Nicole hastily unloads the machine, pulling out the underwear, socks, and leg warmers load she put in yesterday.

She doesn’t worry about working out on laundry days; carrying a loaded basket of laundry up and down the three flights of stairs is workout enough.

Waverly already has the couch covered in dirty laundry, three baskets in front of her. Nicole walks back into their apartment, clean laundry on her hips, as Styx goes running by, one of her white shirts in his mouth.

“Styx!” she shouts.

He comes to a sliding stop, his nails catching on their carpeted living room floor hard enough that he nearly topples over.

“Drop it,” she commands.

Styx opens his mouth and the white shirt falls to his feet, wet from his mouth.

Nicole picks it up as Waverly comes running into the living room, pushing her hair out of her face with one hand. “Waves,” she groans.

Waverly leans heavily against the back of the couch. “I… tried…” she pants. “I… threw…”

Nicole puts the clean laundry down on the armchair. “Okay, just take a deep breath.”

Waverly holds up her other hand, holding Styx’s stuffed moose. “I was holding both of these,” she says, her breathing back to normal. “Your shirt and his moose. And I threw them both at the same time, which was totally my fault.” She tosses the moose into the corner of the room, Styx’s eyes tracking the movement.

Nicole sighs. “Get it, Styx,” she allows.

Styx chases after it, pouncing on it and rolling onto his back.

Nicole smoothes out the white shirt in her hand. “It’s fine,” she tells Waverly. “It’s dirty anyway, right?”

Waverly exhales shakily. “Okay, good. I’m still wicked sorry.”

Nicole throws the shirt onto the couch and shrugs. “It’s okay, baby.” She twists one strand of Waverly’s hair around her finger. “You can just buy me a new one.”

“Oh, can I?” Waverly asks, walking her fingers up Nicole’s bare arm. She reaches the rolled cuff of Nicole’s sleeve and lingers there for a torturously long moment before walking back down again.

Nicole sighs, relieved that Waverly didn’t undo the cuff. “All that money you make, as a teacher? You can buy me a new shirt.”

Waverly snorts softly. “I barely make enough money to feed Styx, let alone fuel your white undershirt habit.”

“It’s not a-”

“You have an entire drawer of plain, white undershirts, baby,” Waverly interrupts. “It’s a habit.”

“It’s a hard habit to break.”

Waverly raises one eyebrow. “Okay, Peter Cetera.” She pushes Nicole gently towards the kitchen. “Dishes won’t do themselves.”

Nicole sighs and drags her feet as she walks into the kitchen. She pulls everything out of the left side of the sink, stacking it high on the right. It takes a minute to find the drain stopper, but she does. It’s stuck to the bottom of a frying pan, the plastic just barely fused to the aluminum bottom. She grits her teeth as she struggles to get it loose, eventually able to peel it off the pan without ripping the plastic stopper. She wedges it into the bottom of the left sink and turns the water on as hot as it will go. 

The radio is still on, but Nicole slides the function switch over to ‘tape’ and hit the eject button. She opens her cassette closet, scanning the rows of tapes. 

“ _ Not _ Survivor,” Waverly requests from the couch. “I can’t hear ‘High On You’ any more this week.”

“ _ Vital Signs _ is their second most-”

“Don’t care,” Waverly sings. “I don’t want to hear it. What about… Oh, what about Bryan Adams?”

Nicole makes a face. “No.”

“What about Culture Club?”

“Well…”

“The Bangles?”

Nicole shakes her head. 

“Katrina and the Waves?”

“No.”

“Bananarama?”

Nicole stares at Waverly.

“Duran Duran?”

Nicole spots the tape she’s looking for. “ _ Scarecrow _ .”

Waverly groans dramatically. “You know, he’s not even  _ good-looking _ .”

Nicole shrugs, tipping the tape out of its spot on the shelf, letting it drop into her waiting hand. “He doesn’t need to look good when he sounds good.”

“Should I be worried you’re going to leave me for John Cougar Mellencamp?”

Nicole presses a soft kiss to the side of Waverly’s head as she walks past the couch. “Of course not, baby.” She pauses right before she ducks back into the kitchen. “Kevin Bacon, on the other hand.”

A pair of socks slide across the kitchen floor after her. Nicole laughs and scoops them up, throwing them back at Waverly. She pops John Cougar Mellencamp’s  _ Scarecrow _ into the radio and drums her fingers against the countertop as “Rain on the Scarecrow” starts.

The sink is just about full, so she shuts off the water and adds the dish soap, using a spoon to stir the cleaning solution into the water. She dips one finger in, wincing slightly at the water temperature. Carefully, she drops cups and forks and spoons into the sudsy water, adding plates and bowls from breakfast. She leaves the frying pans on the side of the sink for now.

While the dishes soak a minute, she lines the counter with dishtowels Waverly picked out at the Sears in the city. They have cute saying on them, the kind that makes Chrissy squeal when she comes over for “Girls’ Night” during Nicole’s night shift week. She lays out three of them, covering the entire countertop. She slowly takes off her Casio, placing it gently down on the kitchen table.

She peeks back into the living room. Waverly is shimmying around, waving a sock in Styx’s face. Styx’s tongue lolls out of his mouth as he rolls over on the carpet, belly up and waiting for a scratch. Waverly laughs and reaches down, giving in to Styx’s demands. 

Nicole feels the same bloom in her chest that she always gets when she sees things like this; the same bloom of happiness, the burst of  _ belonging _ , the flood of  _ finally _ that rushes through her when everything clicks into place and Waverly is smiling and here and  _ home _ .

She blinks herself back to reality and shakes her head, trying to focus on the dishes. 

“ _ Rain on the scarecrow, blood on the plow. This land fed a nation, this land made me proud. And son, I'm just sorry there’s no legacy for you now _ ,” she sings along. 

She reaches for the first dish, a plate. The sponge is on the edge of the sink and she drops it into the scalding water, getting it wet. She wrings it out a little, scrubbing the plate, and then dunks the sponge back in with the dishes.

“That water is dirty,” she hears Waverly mumble from the living room.

Nicole looks over her shoulder. Waverly is standing by the couch, looking into the kitchen, a soft frown on her face. “Excuse me?” Nicole asks slowly.

“Nothing,” Waverly says quickly, looking back down at her piles of sorted laundry.

“Dammit, Waverly,” Nicole mutters to herself. She drops a soapy plate into the sink, knocking the sponge in accidentally. “If you don’t like the way I do the dishes-”

Waverly’s head snaps up. “Oh,” she interrupts. “Don’t start with me, Ms. Refolds-Every-Pair-of-Underwear.”

Nicole takes a steadying breath, feeling her irritation rise rapidly. “Refolding would imply that the underwear had been folded in the first place,” she says slowly, her voice low. 

Waverly crosses her arms over her chest, a pair of underwear in one hand. “It’s  _ underwear _ . They don’t need to be folded.”

Nicole shrugs. “If you say so.”

Waverly is quiet for a minute, the silence deafening as “Rain on the Scarecrow” fades out and “Grandma’s Theme (In The Baggage Coach Ahead)” comes on. 

“Underwear go with the delicates,” Nicole says, nodding at the dirty laundry pile near the front door. “Not with the colors.”

“I  _ know _ how to do laundry,” Waverly says, her back teeth grinding together.

Nicole sighs, plunging both of her hands into the scalding water, looking for the sponge. “I don’t know why we keep doing this,” she says, just loud enough to be heard over Mellencamp. “You never like the way I do the dishes and-”

“You don’t like the way I do the laundry,” Waverly fires back.

Nicole stops and looks over her shoulder. “I know,” she says kindly. “That’s what I was going to say.”

Waverly’s shoulders soften. “But I  _ hate _ doing dishes,” she grumbles.

Nicole dries her hands off on a dishtowel and crosses the kitchen, stepping around the laundry in the living room. She takes the pair of underwear out of Waverly’s hand, tossing it into the delicates pile before she runs her hands up Waverly’s arms and under her chin, tipping her head back so their eyes meet. “I promise,” she starts.

Waverly tries to look away.

Nicole guides their eyes back together gently. “I  _ promise  _ that this Christmas, we’ll put aside some money and get that dishwasher we’ve been talking about. Okay?”

“Okay,” Waverly finally breathes out. 

Nicole gives her a hesitant smile. “Okay.”

“I don’t really hate the way you do dishes,” she grumbles.

Nicole snorts. “Yes, you do.”

Waverly tries to glare at her, but ends up sighing. “I do. I really do. You can’t get clean dishes if you keep using dirty water.” She flushes. “But thank you for doing them anyway.”

Nicole leans down, nipping at Waverly’s bottom lip. Waverly leans into her, forcing Nicole’s hands to the back of her neck. Nicole slides the tips of her fingers into Waverly’s hair, feeling Waverly’s hips press against her own. Her elbows dig uncomfortably into her own chest, but Waverly hums low in the back of her throat and the discomfort fades. 

Waverly takes a small step back towards the couch, pulling Nicole with her. Nicole takes blind steps, her eyes closed as she lets Waverly lead her. Her foot lands on something bulky and her knee buckles.

“ _ Shit _ ,” she hisses. She looks down and scowls at the large teddy bear under her foot. She glares at Styx. “What did I tell you about your bear, huh? What did I tell you?”

Styx wags his tail, thumping it against the carpet. He’s low to the ground, eyes twinkling as Nicole reaches down with one hand to grab for the faded brown teddy bear with the ugly pink bow around its neck. Waverly had to sew one of the arms back on a few years ago, when Styx was a puppy, but the bear looks almost exactly the same as it did the night Nicole won it for Waverly.

Nicole holds the bear in one hand, letting it dangle above Styx’s head. When Nicole had come home with Styx, stopping at Cal’s to call Waverly and tell her all about how she found the  _ perfect _ puppy, Waverly had told her to stop by the McCready house and get Styx something with Waverly’s scent on it, so he could get used to her even if she was away at school. Nicole had left Styx on the front porch with Gus and Wynonna, and climbed the stairs to Waverly’s room, pausing in the doorway. Nothing had changed in Waverly’s room, not since the summer the Earp girls moved in. The big sunflower was still on the wall, and she hadn’t taken down the picture of Jonathan Knight. 

In the corner of the room, near her desk, there was a small bulletin littered with Polaroids: Curtis and Gus on the front porch; Curtis and Wynonna and Waverly in the back of his pickup; Wynonna and Waverly on the steps on their first day of school; Nicole and Wynonna on their bikes; Nicole and Waverly wrapped up on the couch that Gus still has downstairs. On the other side of the desk, tucked between the chair and the windowsill, was the teddy bear.

Nicole remembered carrying it up the stairs to Waverly’s room after they got back together, before Nicole left for the academy. She remembered Wynonna sat at the bottom of the stairs and laughed so hard she slipped off the last one and landed in the front hall. The bear was nearly as big as Waverly, and twice as wide. Nicole could barely get her arm around its neck. Wynonna had laughed just as hard as Nicole carried it back out of the house, stuffing it through the open passenger side window. Styx had gotten back in the car and growled softly at the bear for a minute before flopping on top of it and falling asleep on the ride back to Nicole’s first apartment.

It’s still as big, but some of the stuffing has flattened or fallen out, years of being Styx’s favorite toy wearing it down. The brown is muddier now, duller. The pink bow is fraying at the ends. But Styx’s rear end goes low and wiggles rapidly, his eyes tracking the bear as Nicole swings it back worth while she talks. 

“I  _ thought _ I told you that it needs to stay out of the living room,” she tells him.

Styx  _ yips _ softly.

“I thought,” Nicole repeats, swinging her arm out wide. The bear hits Waverly in the elbow. “I told you not to leave your toys laying around.” She uses both hands to toss the bear over the back of the couch, watching it skip across the carpet.

Styx is chasing after it before it comes to a stop, pouncing on it and burying his face into the neck of the bear. He lays there, stretched out across the bear, his tail fluttering wildly.

“At least someone loves that bear,” Nicole murmurs.

Waverly swats her gently. “I love that bear.”

“I had to vacuum nearly three years of dust off of it,” Nicole argues. 

“I went away to college.”

“And you didn’t love me enough to take it.”

Waverly’s jaw drops slightly. “I loved you enough to  _ not _ take it. I didn’t want anyone thinking my girlfriend was really a middle-schooler.”

Nicole wraps her arms low around Waverly’s waist, pulling her in close. “A middle-schooler? Nothing about that night was middle school, if I remember correctly.”

Waverly runs her fingers across the collar of Nicole’s shirt. “You  _ did _ take me to an arcade,” she starts. “And it  _ did _ end in a fight.”

Nicole’s jaw aches with a phantom pain. Waverly’s fingertips dance across her chin and up towards her ear. She opens her mouth, stretching her jaw side to side. “I guess you’re right,” she agrees. “But Wynonna apologized for that, later on. And she  _ definitely _ wouldn’t have done that in middle school.”

“She wouldn’t have apologized to anyone but you,” Waverly corrects.

Nicole shakes her head. “That’s not true.”

Waverly laughs softly, walking her fingers up around Nicole’s ear, tucking her hair back. “Yes, it is. How many times has she punched Dolls? Or even Doc, before they got together? Didn’t she punch Nathan once?”

Nicole tips her head, leaning into Waverly’s touch. “Yeah,” she says slowly.

Waverly hums. “She didn’t apologize to them. She loves you, in her own Wynonna-way.”

Nicole thinks back to Wynonna coming into her room and convincing her to go after Waverly, if that’s what she really wanted. “Yeah,” she repeats. “Yeah, she does.” She smiles down at Waverly. “But, really. That night was  _ nothing _ like middle school.”

“Nope,” Waverly agrees. “This time, you kissed me instead of spending the whole night staring at me.”

Nicole feels her face flush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Waverly laughs, louder this time. “You thought you were so slick, in your jean jacket, pretending not to stare at me.” She wags a finger at Nicole. “I always knew you were watching me.”

Nicole’s cheeks burn now. “Way to make me sound like a creep.” She turns her head, squeezing her eyes closed.

“It was cute,” Waverly insists. “I liked it.”

Nicole peeks at Waverly through one eye. “Yeah?"

“I didn’t understand it,” Waverly clarifies. “I knew I wanted to spend time with you, but I didn’t know why. I knew I was jealous of Wynonna and-and Shae,” she says, her tongue barely tripping on the name. “But I liked that you wanted to spend time with me, too.”

“I  _ always _ wanted to spend time with you,” Nicole breathes out, the honestly rushing through her before she can swallow the words down. 

Waverly winds her fingers into Nicole’s belt loops, holding her close against her body. “Well, the good news is, we can spend the rest of our lives together.” She flushes, the tops of her cheeks turning pink. “I’m not… This isn’t a proposal.”

“Good,” Nicole whispers, her mouth brushing against Waverly’s as she leans close. “Because I have plans for that. Someday,” she adds quickly. “Someday.”

“Someday… soon?” Waverly asks.

“Someday,” Nicole repeats. She kisses Waverly softly, their lips barely pressing together. “If that’s something you want?”

“I’m not even going to answer that, you noob,” Waverly mumbles against her mouth. Waverly moves across her jawline, down her neck, and to her shoulder. She presses a kiss against Nicole’s shirt. “Okay, okay. Dishes and laundry and then we’ll go grocery shopping?”

Nicole groans as Waverly unwinds from her arms. “ _ Fine _ ,” she says. “But, wait.” She pulls Waverly back in, dipping her slightly and kissing her. “Okay. Now you can do the laundry.”

Mellencamp is nearly all the way through “The Face of a Nation” by the time Nicole makes it back into the kitchen. She can hear Styx behind her, following her as she walks to the sink, staring down into the murky water. She looks over her shoulder at Styx and sighs. He’s under the table, the teddy bear tucked underneath his body like a pillow that he can rest his front paws on. His ears are high and alert, his eyes tracking Nicole as she moves around the kitchen, from the sink to the counter to the cabinets. 

She washes each dish and then sprays it down in the right side of the sink, placing it on the counter to dry. She empties the sink slowly, each dish getting a thorough scrub before she rinses it. She pulls the stopper out of the left side of the sink and lets the water swirl down the drain, gurgling noisily as the last of it disappears. She puts the stopper back in and fills the sink again, the water as hot as it’ll go. The eggs pan and the bacon pan go into the water - they can soak and she’ll do them later, before dinner. She dries her hands and double-checks to make sure none of the soapy, dirty water ended up on her shirt. There’s a speck of something on the bottom hem, and she gasps. When she moves closer to the light, though, she realizes it’s just a shadow. 

“Ready to go?” Waverly asks, leaning against the doorway. She’s smirking, eyes sparkling in a way that means she saw everything Nicole just did. 

Nicole looks Waverly up and down. “Are  _ you _ ?”

Waverly looks down and swears under her breath.

“Because  _ I _ like the way you’re wearing that Rush shirt,” Nicole drags out. “But I’m pretty sure those teenagers who work there would also like the way you’re wearing it. And nothing else.”

Waverly flips her off and disappears into the bedroom. Nicole sits down at the kitchen table, rubbing the top of Styx’s head, listening to the sound of drawers opening and closing. She hears the water in the bathroom running, Waverly spitting toothpaste into the sink, and then the toilet flush. She looks up at the sound of shoes thudding hard against the carpet, her throat going dry.

Waverly looks down. “Too short?”

Nicole’s eyes trace the hemline of Waverly’s plaid skirt, landing just about the same place as the Rush shirt she changed out of. She follows the line of Waverly’s body up, over the waistband of the skirt, and across the five inch gap of skin between the skirt and the blue cotton crop top she’s wearing. She looks back down slowly, eyes landing on the black Addison Leather boots Waverly is wearing, laced up above her ankles. Nicole scratches at the back of her neck.

“Perfect,” she manages to say, her voice stronger than she thought it would be. “You look nice.”

Waverly pouts. “ _ Nice _ isn’t what I was going for.”

“Were you going for  _ killer _ ? Because it’s definitely that,” Nicole mumbles. 

Waverly looks up from where she’s standing in front of the refrigerator. “Did you say something?”

Nicole shakes her head furiously. “Nope.”

Waverly looks at her for a minute longer before she turns back to the refrigerator, scanning it for the grocery list she put on it earlier in the week. “Ah ha!” She grabs for it and knocks a Polaroid down. She reaches for it, bending at the waist.

Nicole nearly falls out of her seat. She grabs for the table at the last second, her chair scratching loudly against the floor.

Waverly snaps back up, twisting to look at Nicole. “Are you okay?”

Nicole presses a hand to her chest to try and stop her heart from breaking through her ribcage. “Fine,” she squeaks out. 

Waverly winks at her. “Sure you are.”

Nicole feels her jaw drop. “Waverly Earp,” she hisses.

Waverly ignores her and stretches up on her tiptoes, reaching for the cabinet where they keep Styx’s dog treats. Her crop top rides up a little on one side, and Nicole stays in her chair, afraid to stand and find out her legs aren’t working. Waverly pulls down the treat bag and Styx sits up, his ears twitching.

“Are we leaving?” Waverly asks, shaking the bag again. Styx sits up, his tail wagging. She pauses. “Wait, the laundry.”

Nicole groans. “You want to run the washer while we’re gone?”

Waverly shrugs. “Why not?”

“Okay,” Nicole says, reaching for Styx. She rubs her hand down his back and makes a mental note to brush him down later, to avoid the worst of the blow out. “I’ll wait while you go put the load in.” She looks up when Waverly makes no move towards the door. “Oh, come on,” she whines.

Waverly pushes out her lower lip, her hands twisting in front of her. “But,” she starts.

“I did the dishes.  _ You _ were doing the laundry,” Nicole reminds her.

“But the  _ spiders _ .”

Nicole is already shaking her head. “I did the dishes,” she repeats.

Waverly moves one foot forward, sliding along the floor easily. She stops in front of Nicole, still sitting at the kitchen table, and fiddles with the collar of her shirt. “Baby,” she says quietly.

“Don’t  _ baby _ me,” Nicole tries to say.

“ _ Baby _ ,” Waverly repeats. “You know I would go down there if I could, but…” she sighs heavily. “But I  _ can’t _ . So if you could…”

Nicole grits her teeth, ready to say no.

Waverly’s hand moves higher, a finger trailing along the line of Nicole’s mouth. “Baby,” Waverly breathes out.

Nicole groans and knocks Waverly’s hand away. “Fine, fine,” she grumbles. “Just… stop doing  _ that _ .”

Waverly’s hand slides from her shoulder, up her neck, to the one spot behind Nicole’s ears that never fails to make her sigh. “Doing what?” she asks softly.

Nicole lets her eyes flutter closed for a moment before she shakes her head again. “No. Stop. I’m going to do the laundry and then we’re going shopping.”

Waverly giggles and backs up, giving Nicole enough space to stand. She grabs at Nicole’s arm as Nicole walks by, pulling her back for a sloppy kiss that Nicole pretends is annoying.

Nicole grabs the closest laundry basket, resting it on her hip as she opens the door and heads down the stairs. She dumps the load - whites - into the washing machine and adds the detergent. She splashes in some bleach - just a small capful, so her white undershirts stay  _ white _ . 

“There wasn’t a single spider down there,” she mutters under her breath as she stops just inside the apartment, grabbing her Chippewas and lacing them up. 

“What?” Waverly shouts from the kitchen.

“Nothing!” Nicole shouts back. She’s pulling on her leather jacket as Waverly moves through the apartment, a purse over one shoulder and Nicole’s keys in her hand.

“You don’t want to take the Jeep?”

Waverly shrugs. “I don’t feel like driving.”

Nicole takes her keys and Styx’s treat, commanding him to sit while Waverly pulls on her jean jacket. Nicole says  _ jump _ and tosses the treat up into the air, watching as Styx lifts on his hind legs and catches it before it hits the ground. She locks the door behind herself, following Waverly down the stairs to the small driveway where they park their cars. 

Her Pontiac Bonneville sits in the drive, shining in the mid-morning sun. Parked next to Waverly’s 1994 soft top Jeep Wrangler, it almost looks like Christmas. Waverly bought the Jeep after her graduation, a present to herself after getting the job as a history teacher at Purgatory High.  _ I like the way it sparkles _ , she had sighed, standing in the lot of Purgatory’s only car dealership. It was tucked away in the corner, but Waverly had spotted it nearly instantly, and all other options faded away.

_ Plus _ , Waverly said, throwing Nicole a look over her shoulder.  _ It has a CD player _ .

Waverly gets in on the driver’s side, sliding into the middle of the bench seat, and immediately reaching for the glove compartment. Nicole groans as she gets in the car and sees Waverly pulling out Pat Benatar’s  _ Seven The Hard Way _ cassette. She leans across Waverly and thumbs through the leftover tapes.

“How come all of these are tapes  _ you _ like?” she asks. 

Waverly grins and kisses Nicole on the cheek, ending up with a mouthful of hair. “Because you like  _ me _ .”

Nicole rolls her eyes, but lets Waverly put in the cassette, starting the car and backing out of the driveway. It’s a short drive the Farm Boy. Waverly sings along to “Sex as a Weapon”, bouncing in her seat. She walks her fingers up and down Nicole’s legs as she taps her other hand on the dashboard. The two graduation tassels around the rearview mirror swing back and forth, the mid-morning sun catching the third tassel she added after Waverly moved out of Gus’s house. Waverly reaches out and touches the tassels: high school, college, and the pink shimmery plastic she had Nicole work out of the end of the handlebars on her bike. Waverly had turned it into a keychain.

Nicole remembers being thirteen, riding lazily behind Waverly on their way to the secret hideout. She remembers watching her long hair blow back behind her, those pink tassels streaming back in the wind. She remembers Bad Company’s “Can’t Get Enough” on her Hitachi, Waverly looking back over her shoulder to smile at Nicole.

“Are we going to sit in the car all morning?” Waverly asks, her lips brushing against Nicole’s ear.

Nicole jumps, elbowing the window. “ _ Shit _ ,” she hisses. “God, Waves. Don’t do that.”

Waverly shrugs, reaching across Nicole’s body for her arm. She grips it tighter when Nicole tries to pull it back, her fingers rubbing at Nicole’s elbow until the ache goes away. “You were, like, a million miles away.”

Nicole feels her face flush. “I’m fine.”

“What’re you thinking about?” Waverly taps her on the forehead, right between the eyes.

“You,” Nicole breathes out, leaning in to rest her forehead against Waverly’s.

Waverly’s cheeks go pink and she rolls her eyes, embarrassed. “Do you  _ ever _ think about anything else?” she teases.

“Never,” she whispers. She pauses, reconsidering. “Well, maybe my cassettes. Yeah,” she nods, her nose bumping against Waverly. “You and my cassettes."

Waverly groans and leans away, pushing at Nicole until Nicole reaches for the door handle and lets them out of the car, stumbling into the parking lot, their bodies twisted together. Waverly laughs into Nicole’s neck and Nicole throws her arm across Waverly’s shoulders, pulling her close as they cross the parking lot. 

“Cart or basket?”

Waverly tips her side to the side, thinking. “Cart?”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “You just want to stand on the front and have me push you around.”

Waverly shrugs, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “ _ Maybe _ .”

Nicole sighs, but grabs a cart, fighting a smile as Waverly steps on the end, holding on tightly. Nicole pushes it through the automatic doors, straining to steer the already-rickety cart with Waverly’s added weight. She barely misses a flower display, turning the cart hard towards the bakery section of the store.

“A loaf of wheat bread,” Waverly instructs.

“White.”

“Wheat.”

“ _ White _ ,” Nicole insists. She pouts, her shoulders dropping. “I don’t  _ like _ wheat. It tastes funny.”

Waverly looks at her, blinking slowly. “It doesn’t taste funny. It tastes like bread."

“Bread that tastes funny,” Nicole mumbles. She reaches for the wheat bread anyway and tosses it into the cart. She starts to push them away from the rows of bread, towards the start of the canned goods, but Waverly reaches out at the last section, grabbing a loaf of Wonderbread and dropping it into the cart. She pointedly looks away when Nicole opens her mouth to say something, but Nicole can see the hint of a smile on her face as she turns. 

Nicole leans down on the front of the cart, watching as Waverly scans the row of canned goods.

“Peas, corn,” she mumbles to herself. “Beans, too.”

“Green beans,” Nicole adds, remembering how Waverly had recited  _ peas and corn and green beans _ for nearly an hour in the car the other day - there wasn’t any scrap paper in the Bonneville.

Waverly smiles widely at her. “Green beans,” she repeats. “Thanks, baby.”

Nicole shrugs a shoulder, smiling back. “No problem.”

Waverly grabs two cans of peas and three cans of corn, dumping them into the cart with a  _ bang _ . She goes back to scanning the shelves, her eyes lighting up when she spots green beans at the very top. 

“I got you,” Nicole says, taking a few short steps around the cart. She ends up pressed against Waverly, reaching over her head to tip the can of green beans off the shelf. She brings it down, dropping it softly into Waverly’s hands.

Waverly turns, not moving out of Nicole’s space. The can gets stuck between them, cutting into Nicole’s stomach through her jacket. “I need one more.”

Nicole keeps her eyes on Waverly’s, feeling for the next can. She tosses it blindly behind her, exhaling softly in relief when it lands in the cart. Waverly smirks, tossing her own can in after it. 

“That was clutch,” Waverly breathes out.

“I practice a lot at work. You should see me with a report Lonnie wrote and a trash can,” Nicole murmurs, her bottom lip brushing against Waverly’s top one. Her hand drifts to Waverly’s waist, feeling the smooth, cool skin underneath her fingertips.

“That’s not very reassuring from a cop,” Waverly says.

Nicole shrugs. “You’re just jealous you never thought of doing it with all those notes you collect.”

Waverly groans, her head falling back. “Teenagers need more imagination. If I have to read the phrase ‘ _ all that and a bag of chips _ ’ or ‘ _ this class is hella boring’  _ one more time, I think I’ll scream.”

Nicole slips her hand further around Waverly’s waist, palming the dip in the small of her back. “If you were  _ my _ teacher,” she starts to say.

Waverly’s face flushes. “What?” she whispers when Nicole trails off.

“I’d probably know what the hell goes on in a high school history class, for starters,” Nicole finishes. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nicole agrees. “And I would do  _ all _ the extra credit.”

Waverly closes the small distance between them, leaning up into Nicole’s space as she kisses her.

Nicole’s hand flexes, her fingers grazing against the rough polyester of Waverly’s skirt. She lets them dip below the waistband, just barely, and Waverly pushes closer, the green beans digging harder into her stomach. She ignores the can and nips at Waverly’s bottom lip. 

Waverly shivers and pulls away, laughing. “Okay, okay.” She pushes at Nicole, creating space between them. Nicole’s hands slip off her waist.

Nicole follows her, reaching for the hem of her crop top. “Wait, come back.”

“Nicole,” Waverly scolds, dancing back a step.

“Waverly,” Nicole says, her voice just as low.

Waverly keeps going backwards, towards the end of the aisle. “Stay away from me,” she warns.

Nicole leaves their cart near the green beans, taking quick steps towards Waverly, a grin on her face. “Just come here,  _ please _ ?”

Waverly backs up even further, tripping on the laces of her Addisons. Nicole goes to grab for Waverly, lunging forward, but someone behind Waverly catches her.

“Waverly Earp,” Ms. Daisy says brightly. “What are the odds of us running into each other, literally.”

Waverly reaches for Nicole’s outstretched hand, steadying herself. “Well, based on the number of people in Purgatory, and without knowing the number of times you and I frequent this store, separately, I would-” she stops abruptly, her cheeks turning pink. “You were kidding.”

“You were always my brightest student,” Ms. Daisy says kindly. “And Nicole Haught, always the hardest working.”

Nicole flushes now. She never really worked hard in Ms. Daisy’s class; especially not after Curtis died. If anything, she put her head down for the rest of the year and let Ms. Daisy pass her through the class with a mediocre, undeserved grade.

“When it mattered,” Ms. Daisy adds, a smile on her face, as if she knows what Nicole is thinking. She switches the shopping basket hanging off one arm to the other. “How are you girls? I’ve heard great things about your first year, Waverly.”

“Thank you,” Waverly says quietly, still red. “I love teaching.”

“That’s not surprising,” Ms. Daisy says. “There was a reason you were my go-to in-class tutor.”

Nicole squeezes Waverly’s hand softly, proud. 

“Without you, I might not have known I could do it,” Waverly admits. “So, thank you for that.”

Ms. Daisy waves a hand at them. “You would have figured it out eventually. I ran into Nicole a few years ago and she told me about your thesis project, on Big Nose Kate?”

Nicole ignores the way Waverly turns in surprise towards her. 

“She did?” Waverly asks.

Ms. Daisy hitches her basket higher up her arm. “We ran into each other at The Patch. She couldn’t stop bragging about you.”

“She couldn’t?” Waverly asks, her voice soft in awe.

Nicole rubs at the back of her neck with her free hand and scans the shelving, cataloging the different types of beans.  _ There’s pinto and green pigeon and- _ Waverly squeezes her hand, trying to get her attention. 

“She said you had outlined Big Nose Kate’s entire life,” Ms. Daisy is saying. “I was very impressed. Big Nose Kate spent a lot of time with  _ the _ Doc Holliday, you know.” Waverly nods. “I always wondered if our John Henry Holliday had any relation.”

Waverly leans in close, her voice low. “He does,” she breathes out.

Ms. Daisy’s eyes sparkle. “I  _ knew _ it.” She hums under her breath.

Nicole wrinkles her nose. “It’s always weird when people call Doc ‘John Henry’.”

Waverly nods. “He definitely doesn’t seem like a  _ John Henry _ ,” she agrees. She leans back into Nicole’s side, pulling Nicole’s arm around her front. “I didn’t know people knew what I was doing at school.”

Ms. Daisy laughs, soft and light. It makes Nicole feel like she’s in high school again, staring at the nice, young teacher with the pretty smile without knowing  _ why _ she couldn’t look away. Nicole can’t look away now either, caught up in the way the fluorescent lighting hits Ms. Daisy’s smile just the right way. Waverly shifts against her and Nicole turns her head unconsciously, pressing a soft kiss to Waverly’s temple. 

“Officer Haught here could not stop gushing about you.”

Waverly squeezes Nicole’s arm. “Oh, yeah?”

Ms. Daisy nods. “But she’s always been your biggest fan, hasn’t she?” she teases.

Waverly tips her head back, looking up at Nicole. “Yeah,” she says softly. “I think she has.”

Nicole smiles back down at Waverly, her face warm.

Ms. Daisy clears her throat after a minute. Nicole startles, forgetting that they’re in the middle of the grocery store, taking to their old high school math teacher. Waverly must have forgotten, too, a blush spreading across her cheeks quickly as she straightens up, letting their joined hands swing between them. 

“Well, it was nice to see you, girls. Waverly, I’ll see you at school on Monday, right?” She waits as Waverly nods. “Great. See you then. Officer Haught, see you around town.”

Nicole goes to tip a hat she’s not wearing, shoving her hand in her pocket instead. Waverly wiggles her fingers in a wave as Ms. Daisy continues down the aisle, past their cart towards the checkout stands. 

Waverly turns to watch her leave, resting the side of her face against Nicole’s arm. She sighs softly. “I always liked her.”

“Me, too,” Nicole murmurs, looking down at Waverly. “Wanna finish up shopping, though? I know that chili takes a while.”

Waverly pulls back, a soft look of surprise on her face. “It does?”

Nicole shrugs. “You said that after we watched the episode, didn’t you? That you’d follow his recipe, but simmer it longer, or something.”

Waverly stares at her for a long moment before she lifts high on her toes and presses a soft kiss to Nicole’s cheek. “Okay, Emeril. We still need kidney beans and canned tomatoes.”

Nicole untangles herself from Waverly’s hold and scans the shelving, picking out the kidney beans and canned tomatoes easily. She drops a few cans of each into the cart and lets Waverly slip behind it, leaning on the handle. Nicole steps up behind her, guiding them while Waverly points out things she wants, tossing them into the cart as they go up and down the aisles.

They let a boy from Waverly’s fourth period sophomore history class bag their groceries. He goes red in the face when Waverly hands him a few bills, their hands brushing. Nicole leans up against the belt, her stance widening as she levels him with a hard gaze. He gulps visibly and hurries to finish packing their brown bags. Nicole tosses Waverly the keys to the car, loads the groceries into the trunk, and laughs when she gets in. Waverly is sitting in the middle of the bench with Nicole’s aviators already on, singing to a Donna Summer song Nicole recognizes. 

_ “ _ _ She works hard for the money. So hard for it, honey. She works hard for the money, so you better treat her right _ ,” Waverly sings, shimmying in the seat. Nicole gets into the car, closing the door with a bang that matches the beat of the song. “ _ Onetta there in the corner stand, and she wonders where she is. And it's strange to her: some people seem to have everything. _ ”

Nicole lets one hand hang out of the open window, tapping the beat against the outside of the door. Waverly pushes the aviators back into her hair, still singing as Nicole takes slow corners.

Eighteen-year-old Nicole, trapped in the back of her mind, would die to know that this moment exists; that somewhere in the future, Waverly Earp will be in her front seat, singing off-key to Donna Summer, with Nicole’s sunglasses in her hair, going to  _ their _ apartment where  _ their _ dog is waiting for them.

Styx yips excitedly when they come back into the apartment, unloading the groceries. They put the turkey in the refrigerator for now, stacking all the canned goods they’ll need for dinner next to the stove. Styx runs circles around them, weaving in and out of their legs.

“Laundry,” Waverly remembers, nudging the basket of colors in Nicole’s direction.

Nicole stares at the basket and crosses her arms over her chest pointedly.

Waverly huffs. “ _ Fine _ . But you’ll do the next load.” She grabs the basket and leaves. Nicole can hear her stomping down the stairs and a door opening and closing.

When she turns her attention back to the apartment, Styx is in front of her, nosing at her legs for attention. She drops to her knees and presses her face into his fur. “Hi, bud. You want a treat? Mom got you some treats.”

Styx’s tail thumps against the carpet happily.

Nicole grabs the new bag of treats out of the cabinet, Styx right behind her.

“Sit,” Nicole commands.

Styx sits quickly, his entire body stilling. 

Nicole holds a treat out in front of her, and watches Styx’s eyes. They stay locked on her own, ignoring the treat she’s waving around. Nicole grins, satisfied, and drops the treat to the floor. She can see the subtle twitch in his body but he restrains himself, waiting for the final command.

“Eat,” she instructs.

He pounces on the treat, scooping it up in his mouth and trotting to his favorite spot in the living room, at the foot of the armchair. The door opens as he settles down, Waverly back from the laundry. 

“Any spiders?” Nicole asks, fighting a grin.

Waverly flips her off.

“You know there are spiders right-”

Waverly turns and glares at her. “Nicole Marie Haught. If you  _ finish _ that sentence, I swear I will-”

Nicole cuts her off, wrapping her arms around Waverly’s waist and pulling her in close. She presses light kisses to the crown of Waverly’s head. “I’ll protect you from the spiders, baby. Don’t you worry.”

Waverly struggles weakly in her hold. “I don’t need you to patronize me,” she grumbles, though Nicole can see the corners of her mouth twitch as she fights a smile.

Nicole holds Waverly tighter. “I’ll squish them,” she promises.

Waverly pulls back a little, disbelief on her face. “With your  _ boots _ ?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Nicole says quickly. “I’ll use yours.”

Waverly pushes her and Nicole stumbles back a step, laughing.

Waverly takes her school bag to the desk in the corner of the living room, spreading out her planner and her textbook, lining different colored pens on one side of the desk. Nicole settles on the couch for a minute, a pencil and pad in her hand so she can sketch out her mixtape idea. She puts them down, and watches Waverly instead. Waverly pours herself a glass of water and hoists Styx’s bear up off the floor, carrying it under her arm across the living room. She drops it next to the desk and Styx immediately flops down on top of it, settling in at Waverly’s feet with a soft whine. 

Nicole watches as Waverly scans her planner, flipping open her textbook to a page. She picks up a pen and starts underlining, humming to herself as she reaches into her school bag, pulling out a composition notebook. She leans back in the chair, looking at the big bulletin board Nicole hung for her. It’s not exactly the same as her Big Nose Kate project, but she still has the entire school year planned out on small sheets of paper, tacked up in a grid so precise, that if Nicole hadn’t watched her do it, she would be sure she used a ruler to line everything up.

“Oh!” Waverly says softly to herself. “We can do that project  _ here _ .” She taps her pencil against the bulletin board, in an empty space in the grid.

“What project?” Nicole can’t stop herself from asking.

Waverly looks back over her shoulder at Nicole and blushes when she realizes Nicole is watching her. “Oh. That project you mentioned. Do you remember?”

Nicole tips her head to the side as she thinks. Eventually, she shrugs and shakes her head. “No clue.”

“It was a good idea. You really don’t remember?”

Nicole shakes her head again. “I really, really don’t.”

Waverly sighs. “I couldn’t come up with a good activity to explore the identities of famous historical figures from 1914-1929,” she starts.

“Oh,” Nicole says, suddenly remembering. “I was only kidding about that idea.”

“It’s a  _ good _ idea,” Waverly insists. “I was just looking for a good place to use it. And I think this is it.”

Nicole leans forward, her elbows digging into her knees. “So how’re you going to do it, then?”

Waverly tips her head to the side, chewing on her bottom lip. “I could give them a list of songs to pick from?”

Nicole frowns. “It’s your higher level class, right?”

Waverly nods.

“Then make them come up with the songs on their own.” Nicole says. She shrugs. “But you’re the teacher. I’m just the cop.”

Waverly wags a finger at her. “Don’t do that. That doesn’t mean you can’t have really, really good ideas.” She claps her hands together. “Okay, so they’ll need to pick a person, find an autobiography, then pick a few songs that relate to that person.” She nods to herself. “And use textual evidence to explain their song choices.”

Nicole snorts. “A love tape for Billy Bishop. I can’t wait to hear them all. How’re you going to do the tapes?”

“We’ll do it in class,” Waverly says. 

Nicole nods. “Seems like a good idea.”

“And  _ maybe _ ,” Waverly drags out, crossing the room slowly. She settles down on top of Nicole, a knee on either side of Nicole’s hips. Her hands slide up Nicole’s arm, undoing a cuff on her right side, and to the back of her neck, twisting the loose strands of Nicole’s hair around her fingers. “Baby,” she adds. 

Nicole snorts, but lets her hands fall to Waverly’s waist, squeezing softly. “Yes?”

“We can borrow your boom box,” Waverly finishes, giving Nicole a wide smile.

“No,” Nicole says seriously. Waverly starts to push out her lower lip, but Nicole shakes her head. “No way am I letting a bunch of high school kids put their grubby mitts on my Panasonic Platinum Series RX-CT980.” Her eyes slides across the living room to the small end table by the television where her boombox sits, shining in the overhead lights. “But maybe I can ask Nathan if he still has his  Panasonic,” she offers.

Waverly nods. “That’ll do. I’ll have to make a rubric. And create a reading list based on each of the historical figures. And I can-”

Nicole’s hands flex on Waverly’s hips, pulling her forward and interrupting her. She leans up, eyes closed, her mouth searching for Waverly’s. She feels Waverly groan softly as Nicole’s tongue slips past her lips. Her hand drifts to Waverly’s bare thigh, fingertips gliding up under the hem of her skirt. It’s easy to press her palm to Waverly’s thigh and slide her whole hand down and back, pulling Waverly impossibly closer.

“What’re you doing?” Waverly mumbles.

Nicole nips at Waverly’s bottom lip one last time before she starts pressing kisses to Waverly’s jawline, down to her chin. She noses Waverly’s head back until she can reach Waverly’s neck, sucking softly as she moves from Waverly’s chin to her collarbone. 

Waverly shifts restlessly in her lap, her hips rolling forward. “ _ Baby _ ,” she breathes out. 

Nicole lets her other hand rest on Waverly’s waistline before she moves it up purposefully. It’s easy enough to slip under the hem of her crop top, her thumb brushing the cotton of Waverly’s bra. 

Waverly grabs for her chin, guiding Nicole’s mouth back to her own. She kisses Nicole hard, her kiss bruising in contrast to the slow roll of her hips. Nicole lets Waverly set the pace for a minute, following each kiss and dip of Waverly’s hips. She eventually slows the kisses, dragging them out until they’re soft and sweet. 

“Wh-what was that for?” Waverly asks breathlessly as she shifts in Nicole’s lap.

Nicole brushes her thumb against Waverly’s bottom lip. “Just because. I love it when you talk teacher.”

“I remember,” Waverly says, winking. “ _ I think of all the education that I missed. But then my homework was never quite like this _ ,” she sings softly, rolling her hips again.

Nicole grips her waist with both hands and slides her back gently. “That’s not fair.”

“ _ All _ is fair in love and war, baby.” Waverly gets up, though, adjusting her skirt. She leans down once more, her hair curtaining around Nicole’s face as she kisses her one last time. “You still making that tape?” she asks over her shoulder, her hips swaying purposefully as she walks back to the desk.

Nicole blinks, remembering the pencil and pad she pulled out to make a list of songs. “Uh huh.” She clears her throat. “I mean, yes. _ Girl Power _ .”

Waverly snorts. “That’s the theme today?”

Nicole narrows her eyes. “What’s wrong with Hayley knowing it’s okay to be a girl?”

Waverly puts up her hands. “I didn’t say that. It’s just… not your style of music. You like… men with long hair. Not usually women.”

“I can stretch,” Nicole says defensively. “I listened to Wham! for years, didn’t I?”

“That was because you were trying to-” Waverly cuts herself off. “Okay, you’re right. So,  _ Girl Power _ . Did you have ideas.”

Nicole stares intently at the blank pad in her hand. “Not really,” she admits. “I mean, some. But you’re right. It’s not really the stuff I listen to.”

Waverly taps her pencil against her thigh thoughtfully. “Donna Summer?”

“Yeah,” Nicole agrees. “That song from the car, for sure.” She writes the number 1 and scribbles down “She Works Hard For The Money” after it. She stretches out on the couch, her feet up on one arm and her neck supported by the other. She hates this couch. When they save up enough, after the dishwasher, she’s going to go to that secondhand shop where they got their kitchen chairs and see if they have any couches she can fit on. 

She tries to remember the list she came up with earlier and writes down what she can:  Joan Jett, Madonna, Whitney Houston, Tina Turner, Pat Benatar. Then she remembers Gloria Gaynor, Cyndi Lauper, Blondie, and Sister Sledge. She adds them all under the Donna Summer song and chews on the end of her pencil as she thinks of some more. She gives up after a minute and rolls off the couch, opening the closet door and staring at her tapes. 

They’re organized in alphabetical order, starting with an ABBA tape Waverly made her get so she could listen to “Dancing Queen” whenever she wanted, and ending with ZZ Top’s  _ Eliminator _ that she bought, just for “Sharp Dressed Man.” Nicole looks at her list and then scans through the D’s, past Def Leppard, looking for  Donna Summer. She picks  _ She Works Hard For The Money  _ off the shelf and stacks it on the small table by the closet door where their mail usually piles up.

She goes back to the B’s and pulls  _ Parallel Lines _ , deciding on “One Way or Another”. She stacks the tape on top of the Donna Summer one and writes down the song she’s picking off the cassette.

By the time she gets out through all of her tapes, she’s got ten of them piled high on the small table, and asolid list on her pad. She scans it one last time: Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Want To Have Fun”, “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor, Sister Sledge’s “We Are Family”, Joan Jett’s “Bad Reputation”, “Material Girl” by Madonna, Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me)”, “Proud Mary” by Tina and Ike Turner, and “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” by Pat Benatar. 

She carries the tapes carefully over to the coffee table, spreading them all out. She doesn’t have an order, yet, but that will be easy enough now that she has the songs picked.

“Will you look this over, baby?” Nicole asks. She looks up and notices Waverly is hovering over her textbook, her nose nearly touching the page as the tip of her tongue pokes out of the mouth in concentration. “Oh, sorry.”

Waverly looks up. “No, no. Let me see it. Please?” she adds when Nicole hesitates.

Nicole hands it over slowly, rubbing at the back of her neck. 

Waverly takes the list from her and reads it over, smiling softly. “These are some of my  _ favorite _ songs. Hayley is going to love it.”

Nicole shrugs, self-conscious all of the sudden. “Maybe.”

Waverly slips her fingers into Nicole’s pocket and tugs until Nicole has no choice but to follow, perching on the arm of Waverly’s chair. “She’s going to be  _ so _ lucky to have you as an aunt.”

“Well, with Nathan and  _ Mercedes _ as her parents,” Nicole starts. Waverly pinches her side gently. “I’m kidding. I still can’t believe they’re having a baby.”

“I can’t believe they got  _ married _ ,” Waverly adds.

“That poor kid is going to be a redhead, no matter what,” Nicole says sadly.

“Hey,” Waverly protests. “ _ I _ happen to like redheads.”

Nicole rolls her eyes and stands up. She rolls her shoulders back, stretching out her arm. “I’ll take Styx for a w-a-l-k and then do the recording.” She spares a glance down at her feet, at Styx, and sighs in relief when it’s obvious he hasn't learned how ‘walk’ is spelled yet. 

Waverly stands, stretching her arms over her head with a soft groan. Nicole’s eyes follow the way her shirt rides up just a little. When she finally refocuses, Waverly is smirking at her, leaning against the desk. “See something you like?”

“I love you,” Nicole breathes out.

Waverly flushes. “Oh.”

Nicole frowns. “I mean-” 

“No, no,” Waverly interrupts. “I was expecting you to say something… more smartass.” She closes the distance between them, her arms looping around Nicole’s neck. “I love you, too,” she says softly. “Which is why  _ I _ will take Styx for his w-a-l-k,” she spells. “And you can stay here and start your tape.”

“Really?” Nicole asks, her arms at Waverly’s waist.

“Really.  _ And _ you can change over the laundry?”

Nicole groans. “I  _ knew _ it was too good to be true.” She drops her head to Waverly’s shoulder. “ _ Fine,” _ she breathes out.

Waverly is smiling widely when Nicole pulls back. “But no bleach with my bras, okay? I know you used it with the whites. I could smell it.”

“Bleach is supposed to be used-”

“On whites,” Waverly interrupts. “I stopped fighting with you about it. But I don’t need white spots all over my underwear, okay? If you want your socks to be snow-white, they should start going in with the whites.”

“ _ You _ sorted the laundry,” Nicole mutters to herself.

Waverly pointedly ignores her. “Walk?” she asks Styx.

He bounds towards the door, stopping under the hooks they put on the wall, staring at his leash. Waverly grabs her coat first, pulling it on before she reaches for his leash and clips it to his collar. “We’re just going down the street, okay?”

Nicole nods. “I’m going to mow the lawn tomorrow for Ms. Ruthie,” she remembers. 

“Oh, did you ask her-”

“She said she’d make lemon cake and you can ask her whatever you want to about Purgatory,” Nicole interrupts.

Waverly smiles widely. “Thanks, baby.”

“So, I’ll just do the manual labor, and you sit there, look pretty, and gossip, okay?”

“It’ll be a nice change of pace from all the times you did that when I was working at The Patch,” Waverly fires back. She winks. “Okay, we’re going.” She tips her head towards the door and opens it. “Come on, boy.”

Nicole grabs the last load of clothes, the delicates, and carries it down three flights of stairs to the basement. She unloads the dryer first, pulling a warm, white undershirt to her chest and hugging it tightly for a minute. She pulls out the rest of the whites, loads them into a free basket, and moves the colors from the washer to the dryer. She throws the delicates into the washer, adds detergent, and starts both machines.

Waverly is still gone when she gets back upstairs, so she makes them lunch: bologna and cheese on wheat with mustard for Waverly, and a fluffernutter on white for herself. She drops a slice of bologna into Styx’s food bowl. She grabs a bag of potato chips out of their small pantry and dumps the rest of the bag onto both of their plates. She carries them into the living room, putting Waverly’s down on her desk. She drags the coffee table away from in front of the couch and closer to her boom box, perching on the edge of it. 

The door opens as she takes her first bite. Styx trots in, his nose twitching as he smells the bologna.

“Bowl,” she orders.

He blows by her and she grins when she hears his tags against his bowl. 

Waverly hangs his leash and her coat up, smiling softly. “Thanks, baby.” She comes around the back of the couch, puts one knee on the coffee table, and tips Nicole’s head back, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. She pulls back, Nicole letting her head drop back even further, resting against Waverly’s side. “You have something… Can I?”

“Of course you can,” Nicole breathes out.

Waverly swipes her thumb against Nicole’s upper lip, wiping at a speck of fluff. “Got it,” she murmurs. “I can’t believe you still eat these.”

“You’re eating  _ bologna _ ,” Nicole says. 

Waverly waves a hand dismissively. “I’m going to work on this week’s reading, okay?”

Nicole keeps her head tilted back, against Waverly. Her eyes flutter closed as Waverly’s fingertips dance across her cheeks and forehead, into her hair. “Okay,” she finally murmurs. “I’m gonna work on my tape.”

Waverly leans down and kisses her one more time.

Nicole sighs contentedly as Waverly curls up on one side of the couch. She calls for Styx and pats the opposite end of the couch. He jumps up and turns in a circle before settling down, shifting around. He jumps down off the couch and around the back of it. Nicole stifles a laugh when she sees him gently bite his bear, dragging it to the edge of the couch.

“Really?” Waverly asks, even as she reaches for bear. She shoves it into the corner of the couch.

Styx jumps back up onto the couch, nosing at the bear until its takes up nearly the whole cushion. He circles it a few times before settling on top if it, his eyes closed in contentment.

Waverly huffs, but wriggles her feet under Styx’s body, her knees bent. She opens her textbook and lets it rest on the incline of her legs, a pencil tucked behind her ear.

Nicole swallows, her throat closing up as her eyes burn. She shakes her head to clear the rush of sentiment flooding through her and focuses her attention on the tapes she picked out. She starts with Cyndi Lauper, scanning the track listing. She cues the song up, peeling the plastic off of a brand new TDK D90 cassette. She slides it into the other side of her Panasonic, and when she hears “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” start, she rewinds and puts both hands on the boombox. 

Sheriff Nedley told her she was good with her hands; he had never seen someone draw and shoot faster in training than she did - first at the academy, and then later, when she was given her first rookie to take under her wing. 

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that it wasn’t natural talent; that she’d developed it after years of making tapes, finding the precise moment to press the record button. Instead, she let him clap her on the shoulder and give her the last thirty minutes of her shift off.

The blank tape starts running at the exact moment the beat starts. She grins widely and leans back for a moment, reveling in her success before she starts picking out the next song. She finally comes up with an order: Cyndi Lauper, then Sister Sledge, Tina Turner, Whitney Houston, Joan Jett, Pat Benatar, Blondie Donna Summer, Madonna, and she’ll finish with Gloria Gaynor.

She stacks the tapes in the order she wants to record the songs and sits back down on the edge of the coffee table. She looks back over her shoulder and smiles fondly as Styx lifts his head to look at her before he puts it back down, resting his snout on Waverly’s ankles. Waverly turns the page with one hand, the other reaching down to idly brush back Styx’s fur. 

Nicole is so caught up in watching Waverly read her book that she nearly misses the end of the song. She lunges forward and stabs at the record button as “When You Were Mine” kicks on. She pulls  _ She’s So Unusual _ out of the right side of the boombox and puts in  _ We Are Family _ , fast-forwarding to the title track.

In between pulling out tapes and pressing the record button, she scribbles down a introduction to the tape, crossing out sentences and changing the wording until, as she puts in  _ Love Tracks _ , she decides it’s done. She rips the drafted introduction off the pad of paper and rewrites it, neatly. 

_ Dear Hayley, _

_ This is Tape 23, for the 23rd week you’ve been inside your mom. I’m calling it ‘Girl Power’ because all of the tracks are sung by women. Actually, your Aunt Waverly gave me the idea after she told me a story about “Bad Reputation,” and so here you go: ten of the best songs sung by women that I know. I’ll be honest, none of these are songs I would ever say are my favorite. But they  _ are _ some of your Aunt Waverly’s favorite songs, and that’s just as important. See, I won’t ever tell her - and neither can you - but her music choices aren’t  _ terrible _. Except for Devo. No one should like the song “Whip It” as much as she does. Anyway, don’t listen to “Bad Reputation” until you’re at least nine. Or make your mom listen to it with you. Someone reliable told me that Joan Jett says the word “damn” about a hundred times in that song.  _

_ Love, Aunt Nicole _

She carefully takes the TDK D90 tape out of the Panasonic and tucks it into the cassette case, folding up her letter into a small square, fitting it into the slot where a cover would go.

“Finished?” Waverly asks, her voice thick with exhaustion. She closes her book and yawns.

Nicole lifts her feet off the ground and spins on the coffee table, turning to face Waverly. “Yep,” she says, popping the ‘p’ sound. “How about you?”

“I think I have enough for a surprise quiz on Monday.” Waverly carefully puts down her textbook and checks the clock. Styx lifts his head, his eyes dark with sleep. 

“That’s grody,” Nicole says.

Waverly rolls her eyes and taps Nicole on the knee. “ _ You _ don’t have to take it.”

“I’m speaking for every high school student who ever had a surprise quiz on a Monday.”

“Uh huh.” Waverly stands up, stretching her arms over her head. She groans as her back cracks. “Want me to start dinner?”

Nicole stands slower, her knee cracking a little as she straightens it out. “I’ll help,” she offers. “I just need to go the bathroom first.”

Styx pads after them as they head into the kitchen, stopping at his water bowl before he settles down under the kitchen table, inching forward until he’s wedged between the legs of a chair, staring up at them.

Nicole can hear Waverly pulling out the pots and pans, dropping them onto the stovetop; the water running into a copper-bottom pot; the refrigerator seal breaking as Waverly pulls the turkey out; the pause and soft ripping sound as she pulls a piece of bologna out of the deli package; the jingle of Styx’s tags as he lifts his head for the treat Waverly is giving him. She washes her hands and comes into the kitchen as Waverly is flipping on the radio.

“I’ll pick something,” Nicole says, sliding her hand under Waverly’s.

Waverly slaps her hand away. “We listened to your music this morning.”

“But-”

“But  _ nothing _ ,” Waverly interrupts. “I want to listen to Erasure.” She pulls  _ The Innocents _ off the small pile of tapes stacked by the radio.

Nicole is already shaking her head. “No. No way. We’re not listening to ‘A Little Respect’  _ again _ .” She pushes out her bottom lip. “Please?”

Waverly pauses, her hand hovering over the eject button on the radio. Her eyes travel Nicole’s face for a moment before she sighs. “What do you want to listen to?”

Nicole picks up her Guns N’ Roses’  _ G N’ R Lies _ cassette and smiles hopefully.

Waverly huffs and takes it out of her hand, opening the case to scan the track listing. “Fine,” she says after a minute. “But only because I know all the words to two of these songs.”

Nicole braces herself on the counter, trapping Waverly in place. “I hope you remember all the words to ‘Patience’,” she says softly.

“That one, too,” Waverly teases. She hip-checks Nicole out of her way, tossing a smile at Nicole over her shoulder. “Like I could forget that song. You only sang it all the damn time.”

Nicole shrugs. “I could have kept singing ‘Faithfully,’ but it seemed like you wanted some variety.”

“Hey,” Waverly protests, grabbing the can opener from the drawer by the sink. She points it at Nicole. “I  _ love _ ‘Faithfully.’  _ You’re _ the one who got tired of singing it.”

Nicole takes the can opener and sets it on the first can of tomatoes. She twists the tool. “You liked ‘Patience,’ too, though. Right?”

Waverly pulls a strainer out of the cabinet and sets it down in the sink before she presses her lips to Nicole’s cheek. “I liked that you sang it to me.”

Nicole looks down, switching the opened can for a new one, trying to hide her smile. She opens two more cans - beans, this time - as Waverly puts  _ G N’ R Lies _ into the tape deck. Her head snaps up when she hears the opening notes of “Patience.”

“You  _ can _ start tapes on Side B,” Waverly says defensively.

Nicole stifles a laugh and dumps two cans of beans into the strainer. Waverly sways side to side at the counter, tapping her free hand to the beat as she turns the water on.

It reminds Nicole of their late night calls, when Waverly was in school; when two telephone cords and three hours separated them. She remembers dragging her pillow and blanket into the pantry at her mom’s house. She remembers curling up against the cabinets, rolling onions between her hands while Waverly told  her about Eliza and her student-teaching. She remembers Waverly breathing in her ear, weighed down by sleep, asking to hear a song.

“ _ Said woman take it slow, and it'll work itself out fine. All we need is just a little patience _ ,” she sings softly in their kitchen. She looks back over her shoulder, catching Waverly watching her. She turns, her hip against the counter as she slides closer to Waverly. “ _ Said sugar make it slow and we'll come together fine. All we need is just a little patience _ .”

“ _ Patience _ ,” Waverly echoes. 

Nicole grins. They move around each easily - draining the beans in the sink, starting a pan on the stove, browning the turkey. Styx nudges her leg every so often, looking for a head scratch or a rub before he trots back to his sleeping spot. Waverly dances in circles around her. Nicole lets her hands drift along Waverly’s waist, up her arms, through the long strands of her hair. They sing the songs Waverly knows: “Use To Love Her” and “One in a Million.” 

They put in Erasure’s  _ The Innocent _ after that, and Nicole sings along half-heartedly to “A Little Respect.” She mostly leans against the counter and watches Waverly sing into a wooden spatula. Nicole pops out Erasure after the song is over and pushes  _ Bat Out Of Hell II: Back Into Hell  _ into the deck before Waverly can protest.

“Shit ticket, Waverly grumbles. She turns away from the stove, staring down at her shirt. Red drops of canned tomato are sprinkled across the fabric.

Nicole steps forward excitedly. “Oh, it’s like a blood splatter analysis. Let me-”

Waverly smacks at her hands when Nicole tries to touch the shirt. “I need to change. Stir the tomatoes into the turkey, okay? Add salt and pepper.” She narrows her eyes. “Not  _ too _ much salt.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t even a-” Waverly cuts herself off and shakes her head, moving through the apartment towards the bedroom.

Nicole looks down at Styx. “It doesn’t  _ matter _ that I wasn’t a Scout. I can still have  _ honor _ .” 

Styx yips, lays flat on his belly, and rolls over.

Nicole sighs. She crouches down and rubs his stomach. “Yeah, I know.” 

She stands up and grabs Waverly’s discarded spatula, stirring the canned tomatoes into the browned turkey. She pulls the salt and pepper out of the spice cabinet and adds a little of each to the pot, hesitating before adding another pinch of salt. She bobs her head to Meat Loaf, vowing to skip over “Life is a Lemon and I Want My Money Back” and “Rock and Roll Dreams Come Through” as soon as she’s done listening to “I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That).”

_ A beer _ , she thinks.  _ I want a beer _ . 

Meat Loaf and Lorraine Crosby quiet down as the next song starts. Nicole pauses in front of the radio, alternating between the ‘play’ and ‘fast forward’ button until she gets to “It Just Won’t Quit.”

She pulls open the refrigerator and has to crouch down to see all the way in the back on the very bottom shelf. She has three bottles of Moosehead Lager left, next to Waverly’s Zima. Nicole pulls one of each out of the refrigerator, placing them on the counter. She rifles through the utensil drawer until she finds the bottle opener, popping the tops off both bottles. She pours Waverly’s Zima into a glass, watching the bubbles rise to the surface and pop.

“ _ I don’t know what it is, but it just won’t quit _ ,” Meat Loaf sings.

Nicole is in the middle of her first sip of beer when Waverly sways back into the kitchen. She traded her crop top and polyester skirt for Nicole’s old REO Speedwagon shirt and underwear. It’s a little big on her, the hem resting on her thighs and the three-quarter sleeves hanging low on her wrists.

Nicole chokes on her first sip of beer.

She pitches forward, feeling it rush through her nose. It dribbles down her chin and she wipes at it with the back of her hand. 

“W-wow,” she manages to say.

Waverly gives a small spin. The ‘84 on the back of the shirt catches the light for a second. “Does it look bad?”

“ _ No _ ,” Nicole says quickly. “I mean,” she tries again. “I mean, it looks…” 

“ _ But there never used to be this girl. But there never used to be this girl _ ,” Meat Loaf continues. 

“Wow,” Nicole finally finishes. She puts her beer behind her on the counter. She pushes off it, letting her hand drop to Waverly’s bare thigh. “Is this really what you want to wear?”

Waverly shrugs. “It’s our night in. I wanted to be comfortable. See? I even have my slippers on.”

Nicole looks down and laughs. Waverly has large wool socks on, the fabric bunched up around her ankles. Nicole leans in and presses a soft kiss to Waverly’s forehead.

“I need to add the beans,” Waverly says, moving around Nicole. “Will you get the bowls down? And some forks?”

As Nicole turns around, “It Just Won’t Quit” cuts out, a note warping. She turns quickly, her heart in her throat, afraid something happened to the radio. Her arms shake and she doesn’t realize she’s holding the fork in her hand like a weapon until she sees the look on Waverly’s face.

Waverly stares at her, confused. “What?”

“Wh-what did you do to the tape?” she asks. Her mind is providing too many answers: Waverly accidentally unspooled it, Waverly intentionally unspooled it, Waverly is pulling tapes from the tape deck without slowing them down first because she’s buying Nicole a brand new cassette. 

“I took it out.”

“Did you hit ‘stop’ before you just… ripped it from there?”

Waverly’s eyes narrow. “It’s a tape.”

“It’s a…” Nicole fades out, her chest constricting. She presses a balled fist against her mouth.

Waverly’s eyes soften quickly. She crosses the room and puts her hands on Nicole’s shoulders. “Breathe, baby,” she instructs.  “I know it’s not  _ just _ a tape.”

Nicole doesn’t exhale until Waverly finishes her sentence. She nods, her neck jerking up and down. “Okay,” she agrees. “Okay. As long as you know.”

“And I pressed stop, okay?”

“Okay,” Nicole repeats. 

“But I’m putting on the radio,” Waverly continues in the same soft voice. “Because it has music I like  _ and _ music you like.” She moves back towards the radio and flips the function switch to FM/AM. 

“ _ Sometimes _ ,” Nicole mutters to herself. 

It takes Nicole a minute to pick out the song.

“ _ Does she know how you told me you'd hold me until you died - 'til you died, but you're still alive, _ ” Alanis Morissette sings. 

Waverly stands at the stove, stirring the beans into the chili, swaying to the song. Nicole watches, mesmerized by the motion of Waverly’s hips - back and forth and back and forth. Her hair fans out around her in a halo. Waverly looks back over her shoulder and grins. It snaps Nicole out of her daze, and she blushes.

Nicole gets two bowls and two forks and two napkins, setting them out on the table. Helping at The Patch, and years of watching Waverly, tells her that the fork goes on the left. She rearranges the silverware and sighs, satisfied. She pulls out a knitted potholder Cub Doucette made her a year ago and puts it on the table, just in case Waverly wants to take the pot of chili off the stove. Instead, Waverly reaches for a wooden spoon and drops it into the pot.

“There you go.”

Nicole smiles brightly. “Thank you, baby,” she says as she kisses the side of Waverly’s head. “It smells amazing.”

Waverly leans into her for just a moment, her body pressed against Nicole’s. Her head falls against Nicole’s shoulder and her eyes flutter closed. Nicole runs her hand through Waverly’s hair, loosening small tangles softly. She can feel Waverly hum and push closer, one arm around Nicole’s waist.

“Today was a good day,” Waverly says quietly.

Nicole snorts. “We didn’t do anything.”

Waverly looks up at her, her eyes dark in the kitchen lightning. “Those are my favorite days, though.”

Nicole smiles softly and kisses Waverly gently, their lips barely brushing. “Yeah. Yeah, they’re mine, too.”

“Clutch,” Waverly breathes out.

Nicole rolls her eyes. “It’s aces, alright.”

Waverly fills two bowls, handing one to Nicole before she goes and sits down at the kitchen table. Nicole stays standing at the stove, watching Waverly sit, legs pulled up underneath her. She starts talking to Styx, scratching underneath his chin and adjusting his collar, itching underneath it. Nicole listens to Waverly promise Styx he can have dinner soon, he just needs to ask his other mom. Waverly looks up, smiling brightly at Nicole.

These are the days eighteen-year-old Nicole dreamed about having, but was sure she’d never get.

Nicole puts on a face, exaggerating her eye roll as she pulls the dog food container on the floor open. She puts a scoop into Styx’s bowl and sets the bowl down, the signal that Styx can eat it. She picks up her beer and carries it to the table, sitting down.

She lifts her fork to take a bite when the song changes and “Whip It!” comes on. Nicole lurches out of her chair and slams her hand down, stopping it just before she swats the radio. She twists the function knob to off.

“Hey!”

Nicole shakes her head, ignoring the way Waverly crosses her arms and pushes out her lower lip in a pout. “No way. Not  _ that  _ song.” She shudders, remembering the nightmare she had once of a Devo hat with arms, chasing her down an endless street. It’s arms were made of tape ribbon. She shivers again.

Waverly pouts. “Just change the station.”

“Or I could put in a tape.”

“ _ Or _ you could just change the station,” Waverly repeats. She holds Nicole’s gaze, her eyes narrowed.

Finally, Nicole sighs. “Fine,” she grumbles. She twists the function knob again, turning it back to radio, and puts the volume down. She thumbs the tuning dial, concentrating on finding some noise in the static. She moves too quickly through a frequency and goes back, moving the dial slower.

“ _ Whenever I'm wrong, just tell me the song and I'll sing it. You'll be right and understood _ ,” Gary Barlow sings.

Nicole looks to Waverly.

“I like this song.”

“It’ll do,” Nicole decides.

She finally sits down, scooping some chili onto her fork. She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. Waverly blows on the forkful she’s holding before she puts it in her mouth. They’re both quiet for a moment, chewing. Nicole swallows.

“More salt,” she finally says.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Waverly agrees. She reaches for the salt and pepper shakers, the ones that form the shape of a heart, that they keep on the kitchen table. She shakes it a few times over bowl before she hands it to Nicole.

Nicole drains the last of her Moosehead and grabs another out of the refrigerator, putting her empty in the sink.

“Oh!” Waverly finishes the Zima in her glass and holds it out towards Nicole. “Please?”

Nicole gives an exaggerated, heavy sigh, but pulls another Zima out and pops the top on both of their bottles. She pours the Zima into Waverly’s glass and puts it down on the table in front of her as she sits back down. Styx inches forward under her chair, resting his head on her foot.

“So,” Waverly says around a mouthful of chili as soon as Nicole sits back down. “I want to have a Canada Day party.”

Nicole makes a face. “Why?”

“It’ll be fun!”

The commercial on the radio fades out and Van Halen comes on, “Can’t Stop Loving You” echoing softly through their kitchen. 

“I already talked to Ms. Ruthie,” Waverly continues.

Nicole groans now. If Waverly already talked to Ms. Ruthie, then there’s nothing Nicole can do; they’re having a Canada Day party.

Waverly ignores her. “She said we can use her yard, you just have to mow it.” She leans forward in her seat. “I can make strawberry platters with that fruit dip that Gus likes. Ms. Ruthie has some platters she’s going to let me borrow.”

“So we’re definitely having a party,” Nicole says, taking a bite of her chili.

Waverly grins. “Baby, that’s a  _ great _ idea!” 

Nicole’s jaw drops slightly, a piece of turkey slipping out of her mouth. Waverly ignores her.

“And you can be in charge of the grill? We’ll do hamburgers and then a fire later. Ms. Ruthie has that firepit in her backyard, you know.”

“I know,” Nicole says flatly. “I have to mow around it all the time.”

“Well, she’s  _ dying _ for a chance to use it,” Waverly continues. “So this all works out!” She claps her hands excitedly.

Styx lifts his head at Waverly’s applause, ears twitching as he takes in the scene. Nicole reaches down, patting the top of his head until he lays down again.

Nicole pushes her chili around in her bowl. “Are you sure we need to throw a party?”

Waverly takes a large sip of her Zima. “We can invite Wynonna and Doc and Gus. Oh!” She grabs for Nicole’s arm across the table, squeezing it in her excitement.

Nicole knows, as soon as Waverly does that, she’s a goner. The excitement is bright in Waverly’s eyes, her smile wide. Her hand is hot on Nicole’s bare arm where she leaves it squeezing to emphasize her words. There’s something in the way Waverly can’t sit still in this moment, in the way that she keeps talking - ideas popping into her head and out of her mouth in rapid succession - that makes Nicole fall even more in love.

She won’t tell Waverly that, though. Instead, she puts on her best frown and grumbles.

“And Nathan and Mercedes, of course. And your mom! We can ask Chrissy and Perry and Sheriff Nedley.” Waverly squeezes Nicole’s arm a little tighter. “You can invite anyone from the station, obviously. And Dolls and Jeremy. Rosita, too. And Linda, too. Maybe she’ll bring Cub. Didn’t Cub’s dad just move back in with Linda?”

Nicole thinks for a minute. “Yeah. David, I think.”

“He can come, too!”

Nicole shrugs disinterestedly. “I don’t know, Waves.”

Waverly squeezes Nicole’s arm softly, getting her attention. “I’ll let you bring your boom box,” she sings.

Nicole narrows her eyes. “I want to make a mixtape.”

Waverly grins widely. “Of course, baby.”

“Then  _ fine _ ,” Nicole agrees.

Waverly claps excitedly. “Schweet!”

Nicole snorts and puts another bite of chili into her mouth. 

The rest of dinner is quiet, punctuated by small stories about what Waverly is teaching this week, or how the song on the radio is catchy, but Nicole doesn’t like it, or Styx sniffing at her leg. When they finish, Nicole puts her bowl in the sink, splashing water into it so the tomatoes don’t stick to it.

“I’m going to take Styx outside?”

Waverly hums, tilting her head back for a kiss as Nicole moves around her. 

It’s dark out now, so Nicole sticks to the corner of their small yard lit by the streetlight. She scans the street while Styx takes care of his business, checking her watch. Someone - Diaz, probably - will be by soon, on his nightly patrol through Purgatory. She feels Styx strain against his leash and she shakes her head, following him back up the stairs into their apartment.

Waverly has the radio turned up a little louder, spinning around on her tiptoes as she puts her bowl in the sink. She scoops the leftover chili into a plastic container, pressing the top down on it. She spins on her heel, pulling open the refrigerator and putting it away. Nicole slides in front of her before she can close the refrigerator door, grabbing her last Moosehead and a third Zima for Waverly. She pours it into Waverly’s glass, jumping up onto the counter and rolling her beer bottle between her hands.

“Baby, what do you-” Waverly cuts herself off as the next song starts.

“ _ I got chills, they're multiplying _ ,” John Travolta starts.

Waverly’s eyes widen and she squeals. “Remember this?”

Nicole groans and drops her forehead into one hand. “Not this song.”

Waverly points a finger at her. “Sing!”

Nicole shakes her head. “No way!”

“ _ -you’re supplying, _ ” Waverly sings. She looks hopefully at Nicole. “ _ It’s electrifying _ !” Waverly dances close, dragging her fingertips along Nicole’s knee. “Remember this?” she asks as she chorus continues.

Nicole tries to pull her knee out from under Waverly’s hand. “If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

Waverly shrugs, a smile on her face. Her eyes are soft, wet in the corners, and just the tiniest bit unfocused. “Sing with me and find out.”

Nicole frowns. “But this song-”

“You  _ totally _ wanted to kiss me,” Waverly interrupts. “That night! In The Patch! I could see it on your face. You wanted to kiss me.”

Nicole presses two fingers to the bottom of Waverly’s chin, tipping her head up. “I did,” she confesses.

“I knew it,” Waverly breathes out.

“I always wondered…” Nicole trails off, shaking her head. “No.”

Waverly walks her fingers up Nicole’s pant leg to the pocket of her jeans. “Wondered what?”

Nicole looks up, ducking her head slightly in embarrassment. “Did you want to kiss me, too? Because there was a moment when I was-”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Waverly exhales. “I remember you looked down and I thought, ‘ _ go, Waverly. Get in there before she looks up’  _ but…” She sighs. “You looked up and I lost my nerve.”

Nicole sighs softly, surging forward to kiss Waverly. “There,” she says when she pulls away, her eyes closed. “Now you can say we kissed during the single worst song in the  _ Grease _ movie.”

Waverly is quiet for a moment as the words wash over her. She barks out a laugh and kisses Nicole again, sloppily this time.

“ _ -too shy to convey. Meditate in my direction. Feel your way _ ,” Waverly sings, rolling her body slowly. She points a finger at Nicole, curling it. She wants Nicole to come closer.

Eighteen-year-old Nicole never took the chance.

Twenty-five-year-old Nicole puts down her beer, pushes off the counter, and kisses Waverly Earp.

They stumble back a foot, Waverly hitting the edge of the kitchen table. Styx yips and skids out from under it, across the kitchen and into the living room. They break apart, panting.

“Styx,” Nicole calls. She follows him into the living room and finds him hiding under his teddy bear. “You big baby,” she grumbles affectionately. When she walks back into the kitchen, Waverly is still swaying to the music, “Africa” on now, her back to the doorway. Nicole slides her arms around Waverly’s waist, nuzzling into her neck.

Waverly turns in her arms. “We could go to bed,” she suggests, her face twisting.

Nicole laughs. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m wiggling my eyebrows. Suggestively.” Waverly frowns. “Am I not wiggling them suggestively?”

“Say  _ suggestively _ one more time,” Nicole begs, her eyes burning as she brushes away tears of laughter.

Waverly goes to pinch her, but Nicole catches her hand before she can, kissing the center of Waverly’s palm. 

“We can go to bed,” Nicole agrees. “To  _ sleep _ .”

“Oh, thank god,” Waverly breathes out. “I’m so not in the mood to have sex.”

Nicole tucks Waverly’s hair behind her ears. “Okay, baby.”

“Leave the laundry on the couch,” Waverly says, bunching Nicole’s shirt in her hand. “Forget it all.”

“We have one more load to bring upstairs,” Nicole reminds her.

Waverly waves an arm back and forth, drops of her wine cooler flying out of her glass she’s using. “Leave it. Let’s live dangerously.”

Nicole laughs, grabbing for the end of Waverly’s shirt and tugging her close as “High Time” comes on the radio. Her hands skim up and down Waverly’s thighs. “If living dangerously means leaving the laundry down in the basement for an extra day, I don’t ever want to live safely again.”

Waverly narrows her eyes, her focus shaky this close to Nicole’s face, and she frowns. “You’re making fun of me.”

‘Would I ever?” Nicole slips her hands up the back of Waverly’s shirt, feeling for the dip in her spine, just above the elastic waistband of her underwear.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Waverly breathes out, her body arching into Nicole’s.

Nicole hums. “Oh, yeah?” she asks, nosing a line up Waverly’s neck.

Waverly pulls back slightly. “I meant, yes. You would. I have an itemized list, somewhere.” 

Nicole pulls back even more, her hands only on Waverly to make sure she stays standing. “You do?”

Waverly nods firmly, her eyes scanning the kitchen. She tries to stretch towards the kitchen table and wobbles. Nicole loops an arm around her waist and holds her tighter. “I started it in 1979, after you heard me singing The Partridge Family theme song.” She stretches her arm out again, the drink in her hand sloshing in the glass dangerously. 

“In… 19…” Nicole shakes her head. She grabs the drink from Waverly and sets it down on the counter near the sink. “God, I love you.”

Waverly’s eyes widen slightly, her eyebrows knitting in surprise. “You do?”

Nicole slides a hand to the back of Waverly’s neck, brushing her thumb along her jaw. “I do.”

Waverly smiles softly and then surges up, catching Nicole off guard. Nicole stumbles back against the counter, catching herself just before she slips. Waverly is burning under her hands, pressing into her. Her hands are in Nicole’s hair, on her face, over the curve of her shoulder and along the line of her arm. Nicole pulls as Waverly pushes, following the ebb and flow of the kiss until it settles, Waverly breathing hard into her mouth.

Styx jumps up, his front paws digging into Nicole’s hip. She bows under the sudden sharpness and laughs, breaking away from Waverly.

“Styx, down,” she commands. When she turns back to Waverly, she frowns. “What are you doing?”

“Cookies,” Waverly says, her voice floating out from inside the refrigerator. “I want cookies.”

Nicole’s head spins as she tries to keep up. “Wait, what?”

Waverly stands up, using the refrigerator for support. “Don’t you want cookies?” Her shoulders drop and her mouth turns down.

“Of course,” Nicole says reflexively. Her stomach protests, but Waverly’s frown turns into a smile and Nicole tells her stomach to  _ shut up, for once _ . “I definitely want cookies.”

Waverly grins, the light from the refrigerator dimming next to her smile. Nicole feels a flutter in her chest. 

“Perfect. Start the engine, baby,” Waverly instructs.

Nicole snorts, but preheats the oven to  350° anyway.

Waverly pulls the tub of Pillsbury cookie dough out of the refrigerator and peels the top off of it. She sticks her fingers into the dough and picks some out, eating it right off the tips. She reaches back in and scoops more out, offering it to Nicole.

Nicole shakes her head. “Salmonella.”

“Salmonella, sarsaparilla,” Waverly sings. “More for me.” She pulls open two drawers before she finds the ice cream scoop. “Baby, get me a cookie sheet,” she instructs, digging the scoop into the tub of cookie dough.

Nicole grabs a baking sheet from the top of the refrigerator, coats it with cooking spray, and gets it onto the counter just as Waverly dumps the first scoop of cookie dough. “I got you.”

Waverly looks up at Nicole. “Thanks, baby.”

Nicole presses a soft kiss to Waverly’s temple. She picks up her beer and takes a long sip as she sits down at the kitchen table, feet up on Waverly’s unused chair. She watches Waverly scoop cookie dough onto the baking sheet, sneaking bites in between. “Waiting For A Girl Like You” is playing softly on the kitchen radio. Her beer is cold. Styx comes over and pushes her arm out of the way, dropping his head in her lap.

_ Perfect _ , she thinks.  _ This is perfect _ .

The oven door slamming shut startles her. She jumps, beer droplets splattering on her jeans when her hand jerks. Waverly turns away from the oven, grinning proudly.

“14 to 18 minutes and then we get  _ cookies _ ,” Waverly sighs. “I can’t wait.”

“You’re going to have to,” Nicole says. “About 16 minutes, in fact.”

Waverly peers at her, eyes narrowed in concentration. “You’re making fun of me again.”

Nicole holds her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Maybe a little bit,” she admits. “But only because I love you. And that small crinkle between your eyes when you’re trying to figure out if I’m teasing you or not.”

Waverly’s forehead crinkles. “I don’t do that.”

Nicole swallows her laugh and a mouthful of beer. “Of course not, baby,” she says kindly.

Foreigner softens and there’s a lull of radio static before FireHouse comes on.

“ _ I guess the time was right for us to say _ ,” C.J. Snare sings.

Waverly’s eyes light up before she sighs softly. “Baby,” she whispers. “I love this song.”

Nicole takes another swallow of beer. “I know.”

“ _ We'd take our time and live our lives together day by day, _ ” Waverly sings along. She holds out her hand. “Dance with me.”

There’s something in Waverly’s eyes that makes Nicole’s initial  _ no _ fade before it even passes her lips. Nicole swallows heavily. Waverly Earp is standing in their kitchen in Nicole’s favorite REO Speedwagon three-quarter sleeve shirt that hangs just above her thighs, her hair long and in her face, asking Nicole to dance with her. She takes one long sip of her beer and puts it on the table, her hands shaking as she places one of them in Waverly’s.

Waverly pulls her close, resting her arms on Nicole’s shoulders, lacing her fingers behind Nicole’s neck. Nicole’s hands flex against Waverly’s hips. “ _ We'll make a wish and send it on a prayer _ ,” Waverly keeps singing. “ _ We know our dreams can all come true, with love that we can share _ .”

She leans back, looking into Nicole’s eyes. For a second, Nicole feels the sweaty press of people at all sides, the room lights dimmed down as her kitchen becomes Stephanie Jones’s party; the slow dance they never got that night. She blinks and Waverly is back in front of her, in her shirt, barefoot, smiling softly at her.

“ _ With you I never wonder, will you be there for me? With you I never wonder _ ,” Waverly breathes out.  “ _ You're the right one for me _ .”

“ _ I finally found the love of a lifetime _ ,” Nicole starts, her voice hoarse.

Waverly’s eyes flutter. “ _ A love to last my whole life through _ .”

“ _ I finally found the love of a lifetime, forever in my heart. I finally found the love of a lifetime _ ,” they say together, their lips brushing as they speak.

Nicole breathes in, her eyes closing as she rests her forehead against Waverly’s. “Did you think we’d be here?” she asks.

“Be where?” Waverly asks, leaning into Nicole.

Nicole’s hands slide lower, inching along the waistline of Waverly’s underwear. “Slow dancing in the kitchen in the apartment where we live.”

“We live together,” Waverly repeats.

“We do,” Nicole confirms.

Waverly pulls back a little, blinking sleepily. “I never thought we’d get here.”

“Oh.” Nicole inhales sharply, her feet stilling.

Waverly shakes her head. “I waited a long time for you, Nicole Haught,” she says. “I waited a long, long time for you to notice me. To love me.”

Nicole exhales slowly. “Oh,” she repeats. “I’ve  _ always  _ noticed you. I have  _ always _ loved you.”

Waverly’s fingers scratch at the back of Nicole’s neck softly. “You made me wait long enough to tell me.”

Nicole leans back in, her forehead against Waverly’s again. “Do you think you can wait a little longer?” she asks, her heart hammering in her chest.

Waverly’s hands flatten against her neck, pulling her down until their lips touch. She kisses Nicole slow, her tongue easing past the seam of Nicole’s lips. Her hands slide through Nicole’s hair, pulling her impossible close.

When they separate, Nicole is breathless. Waverly holds her face in her hands, keeping them close.

“I will wait as long as you need me to,” she whispers. “But only if you promise to wait  _ with _ me.”

“ _ Faithfully _ ,” Nicole manages, her throat tight.

“ _ I finally found the love of a lifetime _ ,” C.J. Snare finishes. Waverly leans her forehead against Nicole’s shoulder, her eyes closing.

Nicole doesn’t let go, swaying side to side as Waverly gets heavier in her arms. “Baby?” she whispers.

Waverly hums.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

Waverly hums again.

Nicole tightens her grip on Waverly’s hips, wondering what the odds are of lifting Waverly into her arms and carrying her to bed. 

Waverly gasps. “Oh, my god!”

Nicole frowns. “What?” She runs her hands over Waverly’s shoulders, kneading at the soft knots under her fingertips. “What is it?”

Waverly inhales sharply. “I want a puppy,” she breathes out.

Nicole laughs so hard she has to let go of Waverly and double over. “Okay, baby. I’ll get you a puppy.” She straightens up and pushes Waverly’s hair off her shoulders. “That Zima was good, huh?” 

“I love Zima. Can we have it at our Canada Day party?” Waverly asks. 

“Of course we can, baby,” Nicole says kindly. “Why don’t you just stand still for a minute.” 

Waverly smiles crookedly. “That’s a good idea.” She looks down at Styx, sitting patiently at her side. “Well, hello, sir.” She looks up again. “You got me a puppy,” she says, sighing happily.

Nicole tries to keep the smile off her face, nodding seriously. “Only for you, baby.”

Waverly sighs again. “He’s so pretty. You did good, baby.”

Nicole checks the oven - there’s still 5 minutes left on the cookies, but she turns it off, pulling the baking sheet out of the oven. She puts it on the stovetop and decides to deal with it in the morning. She pours out the rest of her beer, the rest of Waverly’s Zima, and double checks the lock on the front door. She turns off the living room lights and the overhead kitchen light, turning on the light above the sink in case she gets up in the middle of the night for water. 

Waverly is still leaning against the table, talking quietly to Styx.

“Come on, baby,” Nicole prompts, pulling Waverly into her side. Waverly wraps a heavy arm around her waist. She walks slowly back to their bedroom, sitting Waverly down gently on the side of the bed. She pulls back the covers and helps Waverly under them.

“No, come,” Waverly whines softly, reaching blindly for Nicole.

Nicole grins, unbuckling her jeans and sliding them off, hanging them over the chair in the corner of the room. She’ll iron them again in the morning. She crawls over Waverly, settling heavily on her other side, wriggling around until the covers are under her feet enough for her to reach down and pull them up. Waverly turns instantly, burying her nose into the crook of Nicole’s neck. 

“Today was a good day,” Waverly breathes again.

Nicole lets her eyes close, feeling Waverly in her arms. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, it was.”


End file.
